Tyrant
by dreamerchaos
Summary: Alternate Universe. Megatron and Optimus having met before Optimus or Optronix became a Prime, and how that would have affected the war on Cybertron. MegatronxOptronix.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Tyrant  
Author: dreamerchaos  
Beta: None  
Warning: Slash, possible gore, and AU. Anyone who knows me, also knows of my rabid fondness for AUs. Mature, and will rate up to MATURE. Be Warned.  
Pairing: MegatronxOptronix. Also non-con pairings  
Disclaimer: Transformers is owned and copyrighted by Hasbro and others beside myself. I'm only playing with the boys and girls.  
I've recently been fascinated by the possibility of Megatron and Optimus having met before Optimus (or Optronix) became a Prime, and how that would have affected the war on Cybertron.  
My basic knowledge about Transformers and terms for certain anatomy stems from a wide array of fanfiction. I approach this fic after reading the IDW graphic novel Megatron: Origin. Any mistakes are mine entirely.  
Summary: Optronix knows the war is just outside the window. Worse still is the threat just inside the building.  
Notes: Again, the terminology that will be used stems from other fanfiction.  
I'm also going with the concept that Optronix's body is slightly different from Optimus Prime's. Picture the same, but less bulky, and not quite as tall (and no face plate, either). I'm pretty certain that when he had attained the Matrix of Leadership, that it significantly altered his form.  
If you want a height estimate, I picture that Optronix would be of similar height with say, Starscream.

Kilk- 1.2 minutes

Breem- 8 min

Joor- 1 hour

Orn- 1 day

Meta-cycle- 13 months-1 year- 400 orns

Vorn- 83 years

CHAPTER ONE

Optronix was fully aware of the war raging outside the windowpanes. Regardless of the beautiful amber and pearl-lit sunrise that shone over the city's skyscrapers and bathed the vehicle-filled streets.

Rich blue fingers splay over the glass, capturing the bright beams of sunlight between his fingers.

It still felt incredibly odd, being here in this pristine, bustling city. His life had changed drastically in the last two vorns. To his sheer shock, amazement, and mixed relief, a friend of a friend had transferred Optronix from the tight quarters, bustle of the docks, and shipped off to the city's main library.

He was still in the beginning stages of training to become an archivist for the library's multiple wings and database storage, but he could not help but feel excited by the opportunity. This priceless chance granted to him regardless of his lack of education and experience, handed him an opportunity that a rare few ever hoped to see.

While in the midst of his training, overpowering daily thought processes, there was the black shadow that hung over every mech. The whispers and the shuddering optics, each individual constantly looking towards the horizon, downloading the latest news bulletin about another city that has fallen at the hands of the rebels...at the hands of the _Decepticons_.

The title of the infamous rebel forces delivered a body-wracking shudder, hand clenching along glass in response to the mental hiss and slide of that forbidden name. A deadly army over a thousand strong, and steadily growing with each city that was taken. No one knew where the Decepticon forces planned to strike next. Many mechs fled to destinations unknown in fear of the coming attack. Others hid inside their homes and waited for the inevitable. Others still kept their frequencies shut and their optics blind, refusing to believe that Cybertron was beginning to crumble, dust spilling between the fingers of the enemy.

The uprising had started so innocuously. Frequent rabbles and uproars on several mining outposts, many either ignored or swept under the carpet, or settled behind closed doors and with tempers temporarily soothed until the next episode.

However, at the particular mining outpost, when Senator Decimus had assembled the works at Mining Outpost C-12 and informed the mechs that their livelihood, their home, set to be scrapped, the uproar turned to rage as the workers refused to comply with the Senator's commands.

In the midst of the uproar, one worker brutally struck down by a security officer who decided to take charge and silence the miners' insubordination.

The security officers met by a wave of workers hell-bent on avenging their fallen comrade.

Senator Decimus, wounded during the rabble, fled with the other security mechs, retreating to the safety of Cybertron and the High Council.

The instigators of the riot were swiftly rounded up and in the process of being escorted to a holding facility, but halfway to Cybertron the ship was taken over, crew exterminated as the rebels broke through the metal restraints and seized the carrier ship for themselves.

The rebels' newly acquired ship managed to sneak past the planet's security mainframe, and disappeared in the deepest corridors of Kaon, the worst place on Cybertron.

Not long after, the rebels began to spread their seed of violence and hysteria. Autobot Security Headquarters could not keep up with the random attacks of the rebels and the mass panic hitting the city streets, and civilians feared for their very lives with every succeeding assault.

The Decepticons seized the opportunity. Striking hard, striking fast, Kaon fell, nearly half of the population either bending to the Decepticons' will, or falling to their knees as the soldiers tore them to pieces.

And the rest, as they say, was history.

"Rust stick for your thoughts."

Optronix vents hissed in surprise. He turned, catching sight of his companion. A soft smile graced his lips, silver face brightening. "Ariel." He greeted kindly.

The pink femme returned his smile. "You stand at the top of the world, and yet you look as if you are peering into the Pit."

"Oh?" Optronix laughed in embarrassment, caught in the act, rubbing the back of his head with a hand. "I'm sorry. I was admiring the view, and my memory banks ran rampant on me."

"I can't say that I'm surprised." Ariel joined him, soft blue optics peering at the massive skyscrapers standing guard around the building's perimeter. The sunlight kissed her lips and cheek; gold halo encircling widely spread antennas. "This place is so different, isn't it? Compared to your last home." She wondered aloud, voice hushed, as if speaking too loud would cause the mood to spoil. "I was only introduced to the place where you once lived and worked, but I have to admit that it was a cesspool. I can't imagine anyone wanting to live there willingly."

"It wasn't so bad." Optronix defends his previous home. "Tyger Pax wasn't entirely better, but I happily accepted the transfer to Faon. I would rather live in a gutter than to have no home whatsoever."

Yes, Tyger Pax and Faon were a few of the most desolate cities on Cybertron. And, quite honestly, his employers had him transferred because of Optronix's frequent, insistent arguments that the dockworkers didn't possess the mech power or enough megacycles to run the shipping lanes at the capacity that the employers demanded. The higher ups did not care that workers broke their backs and bled oil; bodies laboring hard in attempts keep up with half of the unsympathetic demands.

"Oh, Optronix." Ariel sighed. "You forgive and forget so easily. I don't know how you do it," Her face darkened considerably, reflecting the direction of her thoughts. "Especially after all the rumors that are going around. I can't believe that the main ringleaders of the _Decepticons_, those mechs from Mining Outpost C-12, had once spent a considerable amount of time in Faon." (1)

"Really?" Optronix's reply fell soft, nearly indiscernible to his audio receptors. "I wasn't aware of that." His throat stung around the slight falsification.

* * *

_"Hey, hey. Look!" A mech's hand slapped his shoulder._

The rough hand almost toppled him from the seat, his companion boosted by too many cups of high-grade energon. "What is it?" Optronix asks, taking a small sip from a cup of low-grade energon.

"Those guys. Over there." Optronix followed the hand directing his attention towards the entrance, catching sight of the small group of mechs that were just entering the bar.

The group may be small, but the mechs certainly weren't. The largest one stood head and shoulders above the rest, silver body accented with careful touches of red and black and a silver helm, bulk dwarfing his companions. Each of the arriving mechs bore the bright yellow and black striped insignias upon their shoulders, chests, and helms, indicating that they were miners. "I've never seen any of them at this bar before." Optronix shrugged.

"Wonder who they are?" Another mech wondered from the seat on Optronix's opposite shoulder.

The first speaker hunkered down with optics half-shuttered, answering before Optronix could manage to add his input. "Miners. Poor, dirty drifters, the lot of them. The only thing they're good for is scraping energon crystals off rocks. Watch your backs, or they'll snap our necks and try to steal our jobs!"

"Hush!" Someone hisses sharply.

"Keep your voice down!"

"Like working on the docks is a sweet job in the first place." The second speaker beside Optronix muttered into his cup of energon.

"You shouldn't say such things." Optronix admonished, upset by the mech's obvious discrimination. "Whatever your personal opinion may be, those mechs over there are the main reason we can sit at this table and enjoy our drinks. Without them, who do you think could possibly handle, let alone survive, the demands of the mines?"

"Here, here." One of the mechs in their party saluted. "A mech worth his metal is the one who is willing to face the Mines." Others concur, raising respective cups in recognition.

The antagonist scoffed, slamming his cup onto the table and spilling violet droplets over the smooth surface. Glaring at Optronix, he jerked his massive bulk onto both feet, "Now you've ruined my drink." He bent low, bright optics burning into Optronix's. "You waste your time sympathizing with those filthy bastards."

Optronix says nothing. He remained in his sit, refusing to remove his gaze from the other's optics.

Snorting derisively, the other turned away first. "I need to find a place to drink in peace." He began shoving his way through the crowd and heading for the exit.

A hand clapped onto his shoulder. "Ignore him." One of his companions said, supporting Optronix. "He's had too much to drink. Besides..." The mech grinned, "I don't see anyone volunteering to strip a docked ship, or empty a ship's waste containers."

"No! Why would anyone volunteer when we have you to do that for us?"

"Now that's not fair!" The others laugh uproariously, while the mech sputters in indignation.

Optronix chuckled in amusement, enjoying the sight of his companions' laughter and relaxed poses. To see close friends comfortable sitting together and genuinely enjoying each other's company made his Spark brighten with joy. He savored these few cycles when the dockworkers were allowed a time to relax or savor the hustle and bustle of the city.

To his immense surprise, Optronix caught the distinct sensation of optics sliding over his form. Turning partway around in his seat, he tried to discern where the penetrating gaze originated.

Surprised and confused, blue optics met ruby, the large silver mech's gaze unbreakable. Optronix frowned, perplexed, and wondering why on Cybertron the large miner was focused so intently upon his person.

* * *

"Really?" Ariel asked, voice insistent. "You didn't meet a single one?"

Optronix laughs shakily. "To be honest, I'm not certain whether or not I ran into any of them. You have to understand, Ariel that during that time, there were quite a number of mechs who being sent to numerous outposts, not including the Mining Outposts. It was quite a hectic time period."

"Goodness." Ariel said in surprise. "I'm amazed you had time to yourself, then, if it was that busy."

"Oh, it wasn't too bad." Optronix supplied. "Most of the time when we were given leave, I usually tended to be dragged along by other dock workers to a nearby bar."

"Ahhh.." Ariel's grin was contagious. "Who could forget that you and high-grade don't mix well together."

"Not at all, in fact." Optronix agreed.

_'Not at all, indeed.'_

* * *

_**"WATCH OUT!!"**_

_Optronix heeds the loud warning, ducking in time to avoid a mech flying through the air, thrown by a much larger mech. "Primus!" He gasped, taking shelter underneath a large table._

"What on Cybertron started this rumble?" Another mech asked, taking shelter alongside Optronix.

"I'm not certain." Optronix flinched as the table shifted several inches from the impact of numerous bodies crashing together. "I would say too much energon mixed with high tempers."

"I hear ya." The mech grunted. "I hadn't hoped to spend my day off trying to keep my helm intact."

"It would be wise to leave while we can."

"How?" They looked towards the exit, path blocked by over a dozen pairs of roughhousing mechs and flurries of struggling limbs. "I don't know about you, but the door looks to be quite a ways from our position."

"But if we stay here, the table will most likely break under the pressure of so many mechs who are practically on top of us." Optronix disagreed, voice firm.

The mech sighed. "I guess..." He looked up, peering towards the door. "It wouldn't be in our best interest to remain here until Security arrives. They'll arrest the entire bar, regardless of who started the fight!"

"More than likely."

"Okay." Both mechs gathered their courage. "On three. One...Two...Three!"

They bolted, diving through the scattered warriors raging battles that rival Titans. Twisting and dodging the fists and elbows that turned in their direction.

All of a sudden, his companion cried out in surprise, as another unbalanced mech rammed into his shoulder, both crashing into tangled heaps upon the floor. Optronix faltered, struggling to resist the strength of his forward momentum and turned to assist the two mechs. "Get up!" He ordered, grappling with their knotted forearms. "Get up before you get crushed!"

Optics met, and his companion's blue gaze widened dramatically. "Behind you--" He warns too late.

Optronix was scooped up effortlessly from behind, an arm suddenly squeezing around his waist. Before his legs could register the alteration in elevation, he was hanging several feet in the air. Beginning to struggle wildly, Optronix felt himself being lifted even higher--

And he flew through the air, crashing into a group of cursing mechs who ended up breaking his rough fall and tumble. His helm cracks against floor tile, optics filled with a wipe of static at the sharp impact. "Ahhgh!" Momentarily blind, he hunkered down, arms protecting his head and optics from further injury.

Not a moment too soon, because in the next instant there were several bodies crushing him further against the ground. His chest cavity groans, vents running hard under the strain and weight of heavy metal of the two combatants. 'Primus...' He shoved forward, attempting to push the mechs off.

The static encompassing his optics' screens finally cleared, although slowly. In disorder, feeling topsy-turvy and unable to tell the ceiling from the floor, he struggles to slip free of the tangled forms. Red and black mechs spill over his lap and chest, both still continuing their fight while he tries to slide out from underneath the two.

A large shadow falls over the tangled three mechs. He looked up, and deja vu slapped at his Spark. The broad form of the silver miner looms above, familiar heavily defined limbs, distinct silver helm and red optics. "You.." Optronix whispers.

Optronix's optics dimmed momentarily, but flared bright as two large silver hands, each taking a hold of a separate mech, lifts the two quarreling combatants, and literally threw them both over his shoulders with a careless flick of his wrists.

Optronix stared, in dumb silence by the sight of such large mechs being thrown so casually. He wouldn't be capable of overpowering a single one of the pair. "Ahh...th-thank you..." He expresses in gratitude towards his savior.

Much to Optronix's surprise the mech bends down and looped an arm around his waist, lifting him off his aft. "Waaaa!!" Optronix's wailed with ill-grace, arms waving wildly as he was forcefully laid over the mech's shoulder in a firefighter carry position, hanging over a broad shoulder that dug into his metal sternum. "Wait--" His hands dug at the other's waist, trying to slip free from the firm hold.

"Keep your head down!" The mech barked, as he bulldozed through another mass of roaring fighting mechs. In the distance, Optronix's audio receptors catch the sound of encroaching sirens, warning of Security's encroaching presence.

Optronix yelped in distress, ducking to avoid a large black fist swinging with no particular destination. "You're insane!" He cried, "There's too many fighters between us and the exit!"

"Who said I was going to use the exit?"

'What?'

"What are you--" Twisting around to catch sight of where they were headed, Optronix hissed in alarm to see a wall quickly approaching. "Watch out!!"

"Time to make our own exit." The mech rushed the wall, lifting an armored foot and pounding it once, twice, into the steel barrier.

The obstacle buckled under the first blow, bearing a deep grove of the mech's foot. A second blow, and an entire section of the wall caves outward. Pushing forward, the mech grunted, throwing his shoulder and body into the weakening barrier.

Optronix felt very certain that his optics were spread comically wide, horrified and awed by the impressive use of such massive strength. Once the impromptu exit grew large enough, the mech squeezed both of them through. Just in time, because Optronix could only watch as the main doors of the bar flew open, Security personnel flooding into the growing battlefield.

"You are all under arrest!" Security forcers barked, tackling the nearest combatants and slapping on handcuffs and restraints.

Optronix and his rescuer fled — Actually, Optronix just hung on, dangling like a load of iron bricks — while the mech lugged his blue and red bulk down a maze of alleys.

Not too long after their mad dash for freedom, the distant drone of sirens and furious uproar of voices faded behind them. They must have traveled for over half a breem...But quite frankly, the rough drum of his sternum against the mech's hard shoulder proved too much for him, no matter the few minor sips of energon he'd managed to swallow just before the large bar fight had broken out. "Stop. Stop, already! You're pushing my compactor into my spine!"

To his immense relief the other does stop. Reluctantly, the arm around his waist loosened, giving him the opportunity to slide down from the mech's shoulder and onto his own feet. He stumbled awkwardly, fluids rushing to his helm. "Dizzy." He clasped his forehead between his hands, taking the time to ease his unsettled skull and compactor.

"Easy." The other coaxed, laying a hand on his shoulder, supporting him as he regained his wit. "You took a hard blow."

"I'm okay." Optronix insisted, cradling a throbbing helm. "Just all of the activity hitting me at once."

_"Can you stand on your own?"__**wild**__. Which I hope that I never experience again.'_

"Stingray told me about how ridiculous you looked after several cups of high-grade." Ariel giggled behind her hand, laughter rising further when Optronix's facial plate flushed bright red.

"Stingray should know." Optronix muttered, silently promising to meet with his friend and discuss sharing embarrassing facts with his partner. "I believe it was his fault on more than numerous occasions that I became buzzed with too much to drink."

Ariel laughed, wrapping pale pink arms around her waist, in pain from such continuous laughter. "I can only imagine how you behaved."

The crease of Optronix's lips dropped slightly, his blush refusing to fade even the slightest. _'You have no idea, my dear.' _

_Optronix's head lolled over the other's shoulder. "You..." He moans pitifully, glaring in the general direction of the mech's face. Damn him for refusing to hold still!_

"Oh, Optronix! Don't be so embarrassed!" Ariel laid slim white hands on her lover's shoulders. "I am only teasing, my love."

Optronix graced her with a brittle smile. "I know. I didn't mean to worry you, my dear."

Ariel's eyes shone in pure delight, face graced by a sweet demure blush. "Don't hate me for being selfish, but my Spark sings whenever I manage to paint a smile on your face." She admitted self-consciously.

His Spark glowed, pulsing in uninhibited delight. He ran his fingers along her face, causing the slighter femme's optics to flutter black and blue. "Always for you." He promised.

Ariel rose onto the tip of her toes, softly brushing her lips to Optronix's. "Flatterer." She teased.

Unintentionally, her kiss sparked another memory.

_Even after all the effort made to avoid the local bars and other sites that the miners clustered, Optronix manages to avoid the silver mech for only so long._

On his way from work following the walkway towards his building unit, he cautiously walked down an unlit sidewalk and past the dense bulk of shadows marking the opening of an alley, treading carefully mindful of the presence of any thieves or vagrants.

Silver arm and hand shoot out of the depths of the blackened alleyway, snapping around a blue and silver wrist. Pulled off his pedes, he struggled helplessly as he was jerked into the deep recesses of the hidden passageway.

"SECURI-" A broad hand clapped over his mouth, silencing words into a stumble.

"Quiet!" The silver miner hissed. He pushed Optronix until his back hit the wall, caging the mech in further with his wider frame. "I'd rather not crack open a passerby's skull if they decide to intervene."

Optronix trembles, silenced by the threat implied upon anyone who would attempt to come to his aid. The hand over his mouth slid away, only to capture his sole free wrist.

"You've been avoiding me." His attacker pointed out the obvious tactical maneuvers the dockworker used during previous cycles. Red optics hold Optronix captive, like a MetaCobra capturing a mechamouse with its hypnotic unwavering gaze. "I believe it is safe to assume that your attempts to remain unseen are a result of that night."

Optronix's chin dropped, unable to force his optics to maintain connection.

"Your silence provides your answer." The mech leaned close, allowing for his lips to brush Optronix's antenna. Optronix's vents quiver, chests meeting and drawing sharp intake. "Does my touch make you feel ill? Did you hate it so much that you can't even look at me?" He whispered, metal fangs brushing blue paint.

Optronix swallowed, mustering his voice. "You...It is and isn't about you being a miner. I'm not disgusted. But..this relationship...can't possibly work between us. You're a miner, and because of that, you'll always be called away to another Outpost for vorns at a time. I'm a dockworker; there is no guarantee that I'll have a job position because of new applications constantly flooding the Transport Depot's databanks.

"This can't work out. Especially now. You couldn't possibly be so cruel as to ask me to cheat on--" He didn't have an opportunity to finish. A sharp gasp slipped from his lips, the hands over both wrists tightening painfully.

"Cheat." The mech growled. Red optics flare, as if reading Optronix's mind and downloading an image of his pink and white femme lover. "I see. So the rumors are true: you've found a nice, agreeable femme to keep your recharge bed warm."

"No!" Optronix responds loudly. "We've only been together a few times. A friend introduced us. She's..." His shoulders dropped, voice lowered to a whispered husk. "She's sweet and shy, and I really think I could grow to love her."

"So you'll hide yourself behind a bitterly innocent exterior and use this modest femme to shield you from temptation." A rough laugh, full of derision. "Can't handle a bit of heat and tumble in a recharge bed, so you go running to the nearest femme bot that doesn't bear a remote resemblance to your previous sordid partner."

Optronix's head hung, optics shimmering with bright cleaning fluids. The mech's words bit deep, delivering a burning shard straight into his Spark. "It's not like that..." He denied feebly. "I just...I want to go back to the way things were. Before any of this..." A hiccup escaped his vents, and Optronix tried to remain strong, to not break down like a young Sparkling. But the other's fury and derision stung terribly.

Silver arms pull him in, surrounding blue and red, allowing Optronix to tuck his helm beneath a rigid chin. He shook minutely, bitter fluids spilling from blue optics. "I'm so sorry." Optronix expressed his regret with fierce honesty. "I'm sorry that I'm such a disappointment."

Arms tightened, holding him fast. "I'm leaving for Mining Outpost C-12." The miner spoke, suddenly changing the topic.

"What? When?"

_"In three cycles."_

_"So soon?"_

_"Yes." Mood quickly shifting, the mech pulled him in tighter until he found it a bit difficult to drawn in intake. "You're the only one who can ever decide if what we had shared felt good or was a perverted act. Whatever you may feel, remember this: It is your choice to either stay here, in Faon, or to leave._

"I've lost you."

"Hmm?" Optronix jolted out of his memory banks.

Ariel peered up at him, arms looped around his neck. "I feel like you're quietly slipping away from me."

He opened his mouth, preparing to apologize, but stops. _'It seems that the only thing I'm good for is apologizing for my mistakes. One grievance after another, until nothing but empty words continue to spill out of my mouth, apologizing for choices I don't think I have any control over anymore.'_

Ariel slid down, releasing her hold around his neck. He ran his fingers over her cheek, offering a silent touch to mark a silent apology. "I'll make it up to you." He promised.

"You'd better." Ariel threatened. "Or I'll sic Perceptor on you. He's looking for a research subject for his thesis."

"Decisions, decisions." Optronix sighed, going for further dramatics. He rubbed thoughtfully on his chin. "I can either suffer under your lovely hands, or under the hands of my scientist friend who would more than likely spend several cycles excitedly discussing a small organic arachnid he'd discovered during the last space expedition."

"It helps him to talk about his last projects. I think his feelings are still a bit hurt after Grimlock accidentally stepped on and squashed his discovery."

"Grimlock apologized...in his own way, minus sharp claws and fangs." Optronix laughed, remembering the look on the poor scientist's face when standing rigid — caught in the jaws of misery at his project's demise, and terror when facing off with Grimlock — in front of the much larger mech, stunned into a silent stupor as Grimlock attempted to clean up the grisly remains of Perceptor's organic specimen. "Although I can't be for certain, but I think Wheeljack convinced Grimlock to end Perceptor's organic discovery prematurely. The poor mech still hasn't recovered after the last subject Perceptor brought back. The other research assistants don't trust Perceptor after discovering that his prior research project developed a nasty tendency for spitting acid at unwary mechs."

Ariel shuddered in sympathy, remembering the fiasco, Wheeljack one of the unfortunate victims of said 'discovery'. The poor mech had been beside himself in horror, realizing the danger of the organic creature only after he was left holding the remains of his forearm until medics managed to reattach it. Security managed to entrap the acid spitting subject, blowing the creature into tiny pieces and leaving a mess of the corridor, through their error discovering the hard way that in the creature's death throes it would sprayed acid throughout the immediate vicinity. "Ick. Don't remind me."

Unsure how long they had been on break, Optronix called up a small file box within the corner of a single optic's left screen. He jumped, realizing he was already five minutes late. "I apologize, but I need to return to work. I'm already late, and my instructor will hardly be pleased."

His partner's optics flashed, mimicking his inquiry for the time. "Oh no!" She yelped, "I was supposed to meet Chromia over half a breem ago. She'll exterminate me for sure!"

Optronix pushed lightly, turning her around. "Go, then." He urged, understanding her terror. Chromia was not a femme patient enough to be left waiting; only her mate, Ironhide, matched her in temper. "I can only imagine what she has in store for you."

"Right!" Ariel became a pink and white blur, taking off down the hallway towards the elevator doors. "Hold the doors, Prowl!" She orders, slipping between the elevator doors before they slammed closed.

_'Prowl, hmm?'_ He noted, recognizing the name and face. _'He must be doing another security screening of the building.'_ The Autobot forces tried to prepare as best as they could for the next Decepticon strike, inspecting high profile buildings and determining the status and risk of a future attack.

What purpose would soldiers have for attacking this particular city, especially one that prided itself on education and research, not military? There was not a single Academy positioned within the city's walls, and Security did not have the resources to spread their forces thin for such a small metropolitan center when there was more concern for Iacon.

Perhaps Primus would provide mercy, and allow no more cities to fall beneath Decepticon hands.

Not watching where he was currently headed, Optronix yelped in surprise when his forehead cracked against a mech's chest plate. "Ahh!"

The other body did not stumble, remaining firmly in place. Optronix rubbed at the small scuff on his forehead, cursing his lack of attention. "I'm so sorry! My fault entirely!" He apologized profusely, edging around the mech's large form, hurrying in hopes to make it back to the library wing before the librarian and head archivist returned from her break.

He made it a couple of meters, only to find a rough hand catching him by a shoulder and jerking him back off his feet. He crashed onto his aft, startled, pride stinging from the rough treatment. "Primus!" Pain caused his temper to plug slightly. "Why on Cybertron did you do that for?" He demands, turning.

He gaped in surprise at the muzzle of a blaster pushed almost directly into his face.

A pair of Decepticon soldiers flanked the mech with their blasters aimed at his stunned visage.

"Going somewhere?" The one holding the blaster against his face demands, nudging Optronix's cheek with the barrel of his weapon, "Should really watch where you're going. Could fall and poke an optic out." He tsked, while the other Decepticon snickered.

Optronix shuddered, the barrel of the blaster burning hot, indicating that the weapon had recently been fired.

"Awwww, look, the poor mech's scared." The soldier grinned, leaning over the archivist. Optronix tilted back in response, pulling away from red optics and black faceplate. Optronix caught his own reflection in the red gaze. "Don't run away." Red hands grasp his forearms, jerking him closer. "We only want some company."

"Let me go!" Optronix struggled, pushing away with his legs. "Security! _Security_!!" He shouted in warning, hoping to signal for any guards to arrive, isolate, and arrest the two Decepticons.

"Security, Security!" A soldier mocked. "What a gas! What do you think we did with Security before we came to this floor, huh?"

His mainframe swam, and he realized that he was alone and beyond protection.

The entire building was now essentially compromised.

Optronix struck out, a lucky fist catching the soldier gripping him by his upper arms.  
His fist met the metallic plate covering the mech's gut, and the soldier yelps and released him, instinctively curling into a fetal position to recover from the hard blow.

"Hey!" The remaining soldier shouted.

Ignoring the sharp curses, Optronix lurched onto his feet, running for the emergency stairway.

_"Stop him!"_

"Fraggin' glitch! I'll teach you to hit me!"

Weapons fired, and Optronix nearly lost his footing making an impromptu dive to avoid the blasts aimed towards his helm and spine. He crashed into the door leading into the stairway, impact forcing the door to fly open.

Heavy feet pounding from behind, Optronix forced his legs to _move_. Pushing onto both feet again, he took the stairs two or three at the time, nearly flying down the stairways, dodging numerous blasts of firepower that punched craters into the walls and floor. Chunks of debris slapped at his helm as he ran for his life; the two Decepticons appeared Pit-bent on tearing the entire stairway to pieces.

Ten floors down, he couldn't risk going further downward unless he wanted to risk a round into his back, the two mechs firing wildly, no longer really aiming at their prey. Optronix dove for the nearest door leading onto another floor, crashing through the doorway barely able to catch his bulk as he stumbles, forwards off-balance.

His tumble suddenly halted, snapped up by a hand encircling the back of his neck, shoving him face-first against the floor. He cried out in pain, mandible cracking loudly upon slick tile, his face barely remaining intact after the brutal blow.

Behind him, he heard the two mechs stumble out of the stairway, both promising unending pain and then a quick death. "Piece of slag made a run for it!" One cursed, raising and aiming his blaster towards the pinned mech.

His captor growled low. Optronix was unable to turn his head and look up at the large mech, but he gathered that his captor was facing the two Decepticons.

"Idiots," The mech growled, furious by their incompetence. "You let a single mech cause so much commotion? You're lucky that I need as many soldiers as I can hold onto, otherwise I would _spill your entrails all over the floor for such stupidity and waste of energy_!"

The soldiers cower, fearing the large mech's wrath.

"Lord Megatron, forgive us..."

"Sir, please, we promise not to do it again--"

Optronix grew rigid, palms flat to the floor and optics wide. Primus, help him. He knew that name.

The one holding him prisoner was none other than the infamous leader of the Decepticons.

Megatron.

_"Silence!"_ Megatron roared, causing the very walls of the corridor to tremble in terror. "Do not waste my time with your worthless drivel. Both of you get out of my sight before I send you to the Pits! Return to your fraggin' job and continue clearing out each floor of the building. I want mechs left _online and intact_ otherwise they are of no use to me and can provide no information regarding Autobot movement."

"Sir!"

"Yes, Sir!"

Not waiting to test their leader's mercy, the soldiers fled, footsteps signaling a hasty retreat.

Optronix remained still and silent, wishing he could disappear through the floor.

No such mercy for him, sadly. "As for you..." The hand over the back of his neck squeezed tighter, eliciting a low moan of pain, jaw line forced harder against the ground. "I can not condone anyone trying to obstruct my plans, nor can I allow a mech to casually trot around this building and alert any remaining personnel."

"Nnng." Optronix's jaw burns, optics hazy from the spreading fingers of pain.

"Let's see, then." The Decepticon leader raised him with little effort, with one hand spinning the prostrate mech around, shoving Optronix flat onto his back.

Instinctively he raises his arms, shielding throat and optics. His legs rose into a fetal position, trying to cover as much of his torso as possible to protect from any rough-handed strikes.

Hands snapped around his forearms, nearly tearing the limbs from their rotors with the force used to pull the guards away from the mech's face and pin them on each side of his helm. "Don't you hide your face from me!" The Decepticon leader snarled. "Don't expect such feeble efforts to protect you."

Optronix flinches as both arms cracked down near his helm with the hulking form crouched atop his prey baring sharp metal fangs. "You little..." The mech snarled.

_'He's too strong.'_ Optronix commands his optics offline, not wanting to bear witness as the Decepticon leader struck and sent him tumbling down into the depths of the Pit where only Primus could reach him.

Silence hung, moments filled with tense heaviness, and Optronix could only wait for Megatron to finish him.

_"You..."_ The Decepticon leader hissed. "It's you."

"What...?" Optronix asked, confused and not understanding.

Fingers encase his scuffed jaw, twisting his neck towards the left, and towards the right. Examining him from every conceivable angle.

Disturbing laughter startled him. "Primus above! Who would have thought that I'd find you here, in the last place I would ever envision to look."

_'He's mad.'_ Optronix decides, concluding he's under the whim and hands of a madman. 'He's not making sense.'

Fingers widen further, encompassing the entire lower section of his face. "Turn on your optics, Optronix. It's been too long, and I want to enjoy the sight of your optics online."

Alarmed by the use of his name, he did just as the Decepticon instructs. Optics flared bright, meeting ruby flames as the other mech's bore down.

_'No...'_

"No..." He whispered. Wanting to scream, to shout...To break down and despair... "Not you..."

Megatron grinned ferally, wearing the face of his miner friend from so long ago. The silver helmet possessed more bulk, and his chest bore the ominous purple Decepticon symbol. A long silver tank barrel rose over his right shoulder, and massive black cannon sat mounted on the right limb. Upon his face, two red tattoos marked both cheeks, forming sharp fangs beneath red optics.

"You didn't run far enough. Such a shame...For you." Megatron laughs, leaning closer, shadow surrounding the mech. _"I've dreamed of this moment."_ He whispers the words along Optronix's lips, the mech's optics wide in terror and denial. "And now I'll never let you go."

TBC

(1) City that I made up on the fly.  
(2) Another city that I made up.

"When I return, and I find that you are still in the city, I won't stop until I make you mine. If that prospect frightens you, then you should leave as soon as you can. Because when I return, I can not promise that I won't hurt you."

Optronix shuddered, staring blindly into the even section of the mech's silver chest. The miner's words were a promise and a threat, providing the smaller mech with a chance to decide his own future.

"And remember this." Jerked upwards until only the tips of his feet touched the ground, their mouths met with brute force. Energon threatened to pour from near-split lip components, metal teeth clashing. A hand slid down, pushing between metal thighs. Optronix gasped, helplessly, legs trembling while fingers stretched beneath the compartment housing his plug, silver fingers brushing the interlocked plates protecting his port.

Their mouths parted, foreheads touching as each tried to regain their breath. "Remember my touch." The larger mech commanded, not allowing Optronix to turn his gaze away as he has done before. "Remember the way I taste. Because I am the only one who will ever steal your breath away."

He couldn't speak the words, but Optronix felt his resolution bend under the other's command. 'I won't.' He promises, sliding down, aft hitting the ground, the silver miner stepping back into the shadows, leaving him to his thoughts. 'I won't ever forget.'

Not too long after the miner left for Mining Outpost C-12, Optronix received the invaluable invitation from a close friend that a position for an archivist-in-training had come open in Iacon's smallest sister city, Faon, and was he possibly interested in the new post? (2)

Unable to find an adequate refusal for such an immense opportunity, Optronix watched in a daze, a helpless spectator, as his few belongings were packed, shipped, and placed in his new, much larger building unit.

"You'll love it, Optronix." Bluestreak assured, aware of his friend's silent worry. "It's overwhelming, I know. Moving to another city, let alone being accepted into a new job position, can be a lot to handle. Just take it a step at a time, all right?"

Two cycles later, he began the first stages of his education to become an archivist for the city's most prestigious library. Half petrified that he would cause a miniature disaster among the towering shelves of ancient data pads, his fears were elapsed by incredible elation, and he dug into his studies with incredible fervor.

In the back of his memory banks, he did not forget his promise.

* * *

The mech chuckled, amused by the other's ridiculous effort to focus on his optics. "Yes?" He inquired, firmly holding onto the red and blue arm thrown over his shoulder; half-carrying, half-dragging the dockworker as they began the slow trek towards Optronix's building unit.

"You haven't told me your name." Optronix's feet tangled, and the arm around his waist was the only thing preventing his chin from meeting the walkway. "I've seen you at the same bar for nearly a meta-cycle, and you still haven't told me."

"We've only shared a couple of drinks." The other said casually, grinning at the fierce glare from his companion.

"We've sat at the same table for almost a quarter of the last megacycle!" Optronix flinched, head pounding from the ringing pitch of his voice box. "Oh, my aching helm..."

"Shouldn't have had those last two drinks." The other admonished calmly.

"Shouldn't have had the first one." Optronix counters. "Uuugh. It's all Bulldozer's fault. Never should have listened to him and his promises that no more bar fights would occur. Exterminate me now, please." He begged feebly, wheedling and whining shamelessly.

"And miss out on the opportunity of dragging your heavy aft home?"

"Hilarious." Optronix inserted coolly. "Remind me to kick you in the aft for that particular comment." Another wince of pain. "...Once my helm stops pounding like a metal drum."

"I promise to stand perfectly still, since right now you can't handle a moving target." The mech assured. "Right now, however..." He grunted low in his voice processor as they finally came to a stop in front of the door leading into Optronix's unit. "I need you to key in your pass code, Optronix."

"See? See?" Optronix's optics narrowed in fierce concentration, trying to keep the numeric digits of the computer board next to his doorway from spinning, attempting to find the correct digits. "You know my name, but not the other way around. I should expect nothing else from you, you...you...big dumb secret name keeper." He mumbled the pathetic curses weakly, patting haphazardly at the numeric pad.

"Words hurt." The mech admonished. He shifted Optronix into a more comfortable position against his shoulder. Watching with aloof disinterest as the smaller mech halts, to stare blankly at the computer board. "...You do remember your password, right?" He asks.

"Yesssss..." Optronix answered. "But do be so kind as to tell the fragging numeric pad to cease switching the digit pads around."

"Oh Primus." His companion sighed in disbelief, unable to believe how buzzed the mech truly was. "Here, just tell me the pass code and I'll get us in before daybreak."

It took less than a minute to get inside once Optronix had imparted the code. "Oh, look, we're in my unit." He giggled, taking in the sight of his own living space.

"Recharge for you, my buzzed friend."

Carried haphazardly into his recharge quarters, he was dumped, very carefully, thankfully, onto his recharge bed. Optronix flopped gracelessly across the wide bed, arms looping around the edge of his helm. "Feeling a bit sleepy..." He moaned, optics dimmed until only narrow slits of sapphire.

"Rest and recharge. You'll need it for tomorrow. A nasty hangover will be waiting to keep you company."

"Hmmm..." Optronix sighed in content, peering up at the blurry outline of the other mech.

A large hand brushed his helm, surrounding the side of his face from temple to mandible. "Are you even awake?" He teased.

"Mmmhhmm." Optronix mumbled drowsily.

"Ahh." Thumb and forefinger traced the smooth edge of his cheekbone.

Optronix's eyebrow ridges furrowed, uncertainty waking him slightly. Was the hand upon his face lingering for just a bit too long?

Optics brightened, awareness returning for the moment. In a daze he lay silent as the larger mech leaned over and down, face drawing incredibly close. The mechs shared the same breath, lips separated by scarce inches. "Still awake?" The silver mech whispers.

"...Yes..." Optronix hesitates.

"Good." He closed the distance.

Optronix's optics flared wide, lips separated by his companion's. Slick glossa slid in between, tracing the line of metal denta. "MMmmph--" His hands rose, gripping broad shoulders, not certain whether to push the other away, or pull him closer. Silver arms settled around his shoulders and helm, tucking him closer against a wide chest.

'Wait..what...why is he...' Both optics fell pitch black, fingers shuddering against steadily heating metal flesh. The miner's vents released an exploding column of air, internal components revving loudly. A low growl purred deep in the mech's strong throat, and he tilts his head to allow for further deeper access. Optronix whined softly, muffled around the invader seizing hypersensitive flesh, mapping the inner walls of upper and lower lip, sliding along the lines of smooth ridged muscle of his glossa. He tastes energon and rust stick, high-grade only adding to the riptide of smoke and oil spilling over his senses.

Hands traced the outline of slimmer, smoother bulk of Optronix's shoulders, continuing to slide down upper arm plates and cables, spreading over the ruby expanse of his chest. Expert fingers brushed along metal ribs and breastplates, finding the near invisible lines of Optronix's front. The miner's thumbs found the receptive indentations upon his chest grill, divided by the unseen strip that sealed his chest plates together. "...aahh.." Hips roll and chest shuddered, arching into the firm push of fingers rubbing the edge of his chest indentations, positions identical to organic males'. Head pushed back, throat arched, his breastplates rippled under the miner's expert hands.

Glossa wound together, metallic snakes intertwining in an age-old dance, hissing together in a chant of bewitchment. Optronix's hands fell limp from the miner's shoulders, grasping at strong wrists, mimicking the rocking motions stroking across the territory of his chest. 'Too much. Too much all at once.' He clenched his hands, struggling to express his disjointed misgiving about the entire action and their current position. 'Please, that's enough!'

As if sensing his distress, the silver mech slid both hands up to brace upon Optronix's shoulders. Lifting up, he unwound glossa and separated lips with an audible hiss and break in suction. Optronix gasped once freed, gulping loudly, his chest heaving for air. He stared up at red optics boring down, both mechs' hands upon the other's shoulders. "W-Why...did you..?" He stuttered.

Silver shoulders rose and fell in a deep sigh. "I've upset you. I'm sorry I took advantage of your unsettled state."

Hands clasped his face, holding him firm. "But I'm not sorry for my original intent to kiss you breathless." He swore, stealing a light, brushing kiss while Optronix lay frozen in bewilderment.

"I'll let myself out." Silver hands finally release him, the mech retreating in silence, leaving Optronix in a restless state of solitude.

It was quite a while before he stopped shaking, curled up on his side on the recharge bed.

In the morning, Optronix promised to do something to ease his confusion and regain some measure of peace.

Planning to go as far as to change to pass code into his unit, setting up a thin barrier against the black phantoms that made his lips tingle and shoulders tremble.

* * *

"Yes." The hand was removed, but hovering by a few inches while Optronix pulled up from his crouch, standing and rotating his shoulder joists straight. "I'm all right."

Optronix looked around, regaining his bearings. His optics flickered with surprise. "...Wow... We made it all this way..." He said in awe.

"You know where we are?" His companion asked shortly.

"Yes." Optronix assured. "In fact, we are only a few blocks from my building unit."

'Where I should have been hours ago instead of listening to my friends promises that tonight would be wild. Looks like they were right, however. It was literally

"Hmm." The mech grunted, appearing unconcerned.

Optronix looked back towards the other, but paused halfway, transfixed and captured by the descending glow of a bead of energon hitting the ground.

"You're hurt." Optronix's optics traced the flow of energon back to its source. Carefully, he wrapped his hands around the mech's right wrist, fingertips carefully but deliberately brushing the small tear along the metal skin.

"It's nothing." The mech countered firmly.

"But..."

A large hand encompassed both of his. Squeezing lightly. "This is nothing. I've had both arms crushed during a cave-in on Mining Outpost 08. This is a love tap compared to those wounds I received."

"You, on the other hand..." Slipping loose from Optronix's grip, the mech laid both hands over the smaller mech's blue helm, allowing access for him to turn Optronix's head left and right to examine the damage. Optronix winced helplessly as fingers brush a deep groove on his temple. "This wound concerns me. You might have a minor concussion."

"But I feel fine." He insists.

"Nevertheless," The mech moved to stand parallel to him, making certain that he was on the opposite side, facing away from his injured limb. "It would be best for me to accompany you to make certain that you arrive to your designation in one piece."

"...All right. If you insist." Optronix allowed the mech to lay a hand on his shoulder, coaxing the dock worker to lead the way. "But only if you settle with me treating the wound on your arm."

The mech tilts his head, examining Optronix. The smaller mech stood firm, refusing to bend in regards to insisting to care for his rescuer. "...If you insist." The mech agreed, finally.

Optronix couldn't be absolutely certain, but from the peripheral of his optics, he felt certain that he witnessed the edge of the silver mech's lips twitch in a reluctant smile.

Almost an entire breem later, after he had reached the safety of his building unit and finished tending to his companion, Optronix laid back on his recharge bed, nursing his aching helm. The silver mech had promised that the small wound would be checked daily until fully mended; much to Optronix's relief, there had been no foreign debris or contaminates visible in the thin cut.

"Ahh!" Optronix shot up from the recharge bed, cursing his rampant rambling thoughts.

He had not only forgotten to thank his rescuer, he had forgotten to ask for his name!


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Tyrant  
Author: dreamerchaos  
Beta: None  
Warning: Slash, possible gore, and AU. Anyone who knows me, also knows of my rabid fondness for AUs. Mature, and will rate up to MATURE. Be Warned.  
Pairing: MegatronxOptronix. Also non-con pairings  
Disclaimer: Transformers is owned and copyrighted by Hasbro and others beside myself. I'm only playing with the boys and girls.  
I've recently been fascinated by the possibility of Megatron and Optimus having met before Optimus (or Optronix) became a Prime, and how that would have affected the war on Cybertron.  
My basic knowledge about Transformers and terms for certain anatomy stems from a wide array of fanfiction. I approach this fic after reading the IDW graphic novel Megatron: Origin. Any mistakes are mine entirely.

CHAPTER TWO

Megatron did not anticipate the savage striking fist, knuckles cracking against a steel chin. His grip didn't loosen, but left the Decepticon leader somewhat amazed by the act snapping blow rather than the physical impact.

"Get off!" Optronix shouted, pushing at Megatron's chest with his free hand. "Bastard! You fraggin' bastard! You're their leader! _Decepticon_!" He spat and cursed, kicking and biting like a feral organic. "Everything about you was a lie! All that time you were hiding behind a mask and playing me like a fool!"

Once more shoved back down, hand encircling his throat and squeezing lightly in warning, "Stop right now," Megatron growled, pinning him like a fly to a wall. "I will only tighten far enough to induce you into emergency stasis."

"Why not simply exterminate me?" Optronix demanded in spite. "Isn't that what Decepticons are good at? Killing innocent civilians?"

He gagged around fingers that dug into the metal cables and sinew of his throat. "Don't push me." The silver mech warned. "I've killed lesser mechs for fewer words."

_'And then you spit upon their graves.'_ Words went unsaid, but Optronix's optics spoke volumes, not disguising his horror and disgust.

Fingers relax, allowing him to swallow and regain a few vent intakes. The same fingers slid up to trace his face, a cruel mockery of a night so long ago. Optics shutter, and he turned his face away from the soft brush of metal.

"I can read the look in your optics." Megatron murmured softly, "Strange, that. You once looked at me in fear. But now, all I can see is revulsion." Thumb traced cheekbone.

"I don't like such a look on your face."

Optronix gasped, suddenly jerked up until only his lower back and legs rested upon the ground. Hands clenched upon his shoulders, holding his face with force that threatened to snap neck cables apart if the grip so much as twisted. Ruby flames filled his optics as they came fully online. "If I am forced to choose, I would rather see fear in your optics rather than disgust!" Megatron swore darkly.

"Let go of me!" Optronix barked, struggling as he was forced onto his feet. "And don't expect anything else from me. I won't lay myself at your feet in complete surrender simply to sooth your ego!"

Megatron forces him to walk backwards, smirking down at the smaller mech's continued struggles. "You're usually such a modest mech. Now you're practically spitting sparks in my face. Where did this fire come from?" He asked.

_"Not from you."_ Optronix cursed. "As far as I'm concerned, you're dead to me. You cease to exist in my memory banks!"

"Are you quite certain of that?" Megatron purred, shoving him further until his back smacked into the large security windows facing towards the downtown center of Faon. "Then let us fill those cast-off memory fragments with another image."

The hands upon Optronix's shoulders spun him around, until the entire line of his back fit against the Decepticon leader's front. Both hands slap against the towering windows to keep his face from leaving a damp imprint on the pane, solid barriers trapping him between smooth glass and an iron frame. One arm snaked around a red and blue trimmed waist, and silver fingers of the other hands snapped over his chin, forcing him to look down upon the streets of Faon. "Take a good look." Megatron whispered the command directly into his audio receptors, brushing antenna. "And imprint this image into your memory banks."

Optronix, neither physically capable of turning his face away, nor easily able to digest the full extent of the deliberate scene playing in front of his optics, stares out in horrified amazement. "F-Faon..." He whispered, red and gold flames lining the edges of blue optics.

Faon was burning.

Live cinders and sheets of twisted metal rain down from crumbling skyscrapers, a rain of glass dotting the streets. Windows burned as bright as imploding stars, highlighted by the uncontrollable flames burning every floor of the office and public buildings surrounding the library.

The explosion of cannons and groaning crumble of buildings were almost mute through the thick panes of the glass, but Optronix sensed the windows tremble as another massive building toppled to its knees, releasing a sea of dust and grit that would blanket over six city blocks.

Three seekers shot between the metal canyons of the buildings, performing barrel rolls to avoid the burning wreckage falling from the heavens. Their cannons fired, tracing concentrated beams of fire across the flanks of the buildings. Civilian mechs screamed in terror and agony, many unable to avoid the rain of death that ripped spikes of lightning through their bodies.

Decepticon ground troops swept the streets and thin corridors dividing buildings, trapping Autobots and civilians alike, cutting through the sea of bodies. Scarce volleys of blaster firepower shot from the Autobot ranks as they fell into uncoordinated retreat, pulling injured comrades from the snapping teeth of the wolves edging the perimeter of their unit.

The seekers dove, coming within touching distance of the Autobots. Soldiers scattered, ducking down to avoid the sharp wings of the Decepticon aerial troopers.

From so far above Optronix could make out several small figures resembling Autobot soldiers waving civilians back, words silent but metal faces twisted, deafened words drowned out by the roar of the seekers and screeching ricochet of the enemy blasters. They jerked their arms fiercely, motioning for the civilians to keep running.

"Look at them scatter." Megatron whispered, grip tightening around his captive, red optics ablaze, entranced by the destructive chaos ripping the city apart at its seams. "This was once a city where the high and mighty deigned to show their presence, staring down their noses at the masses. Now look at them, no better than tiny organics bleating in mindless terror. How the mighty have fallen. Their empire crumbles around them, paving the way for a new order."

"You're willing to sacrifice an entire city, an entire culture, for the sake of your empire?" Optronix shuddered, realizing the extent of the carnage and estimating that almost eighty percent of the city was already under siege, Decepticons filling the streets and buildings like a legion of army ants efficiently scouring the earth in search of supplies and nearby enemy colonies.

"I'll send every city onto its knees. Everything before you, and every star and galaxy painting the sky, shall fall. From the Pit and beyond, nothing will escape. I will rule everything, and everything and everyone will become mine.

"When everything is finally fitted into the palm of my hand, there will be peace and silence. No war, no starvation, no prejudice. It will be absolutely perfect."

"What about the mechs that will be your slaves?" Optronix demanded sharply. "What about the soldiers who will be your prisoners? You say that there will be no war, no starvation, and no prejudice. But there will be unequal classes of mechs. There will be fear, and sorrow. People will be afraid to speak their thoughts and explore their dreams because they will live in terror of a tyrant who holds a leash, choking them with the collar signifying their fate. You and your men will sit and live like kings, and the rest of us will be your stepping stones."

"Treated no differently than we were!" Megatron's hands squeez tight. "They mocked us, staring down at the poor, pathetic dregs of society, the 'worthless' scavengers that they created by their own hands and deeds. The only thing we were good for was holding this planet upon our shoulders, while everyone else lavished in excess while we scrapped the soil for their precious energon."

"And you're punishing them by setting a funeral pyre to their homes and cities." Optronix's forehead pressed against glass, watching as the steady tsunami of battle lust and blood rage sends the Decepticon forces pushing deeper into the city. "What those mechs did was monstrous. And in the end, they created a monster."

"Monster, am I?" Megatron asked, sneer pushed against his blue helm. _"Monster, am I?!"_

"AHh!" Optronix was spun around, thrown against the opposite wall. Megatron pushed forward, shoving the bulk of his thighs and torso between Optronix's legs, spreading them wide. "So what are you, then, _my friend_?" He growled, hands slapping down beside the mech's helm, caging him in. Optronix's hands wrapped around those wrists, using the angle to lean back as Megatron pushed their faces together. "I would rather be revered as a god than to exist as a mere cog within the machine of a useless civilization that does not value the masses that slave to accomplish their every whim and fleeting interest."

Optronix's lips push together, drawing thin, refusing to answer verbally while his optics burned hot with fear and contempt.

"You managed to drag yourself out of the docks, but for what? To bow your head submissively and serve the State?" Megatron hissed, biting every syllable. "Did slogging through the oil and dirt stain that smooth exterior? Working with the lowly mechs proved too much, too stifling. Primus help you to allow such a _fine, upstanding citizen_ be seen with such filthy workers."

His temper sparked. "Frag off!" Optronix spat, hands releasing and snapping against the Decepticon leader's chest. "Don't lump me together with the people who defiled and condemned you! My only mistake was that I was such a fool to trust, to believe in you!

"I didn't see the miner, I saw the mech. That was the mech I knew and admired, the one who held my respect and my gratitude."

"Enough!" Megatron pulled him forward, only to shove him backwards, brutally cracking his back and helm against the wall, "Enough waxing poetry and bemoaning your sorrow."

Optronix's vents caught, body locking tight as Megatron's right arm moved, pressing the open barrel of the black cannon towards his helm. Optics lay wide open, assessing the weapon from the corner of his optics. The barrel stared him down, black and silent as the Pits.

"Brave words, my friend," Megatron congratulated, "But in the end, not even you can delude yourself from the truth, that I am the master of your fate." He intentionally tapped the smooth edge of the barrel against Optronix's temple, drawing an involuntary flinch as metal pinged. "We both know that all I would have to do is pull the trigger. And then..._Nothing_." The Decepticon leader exaggerated, lips twisting as Optronix's anxious gaze met his.

"I wouldn't expect anything else from you." He whispered. "So stop persisting in eliciting every ounce of fear and terror, and just **end this**." He begs. "If you have a sliver of mercy inside that shell of yours, you'll stop this right now."

"Hmmmmm..." Megatron pondered, scornfully mimicking deep, thoughtful contemplation. His left hand rubbed his chin, mocking the seriousness of Optronix's plea. "What to do, what to do. Decisions, decisions."

With both of his attacker's arms removed from the wall, Optronix hesitated, unsure whether to seize the chance to make a break and run for the safety of the stairway...but uncertain whether he would make it halfway before Megatron intercepted his flight for freedom.

"All right. I've decided." Megatron announced, smacking a fist against the palm of his other hand. "You persist in repeating how all mechs are to become slaves and how you yourself are willing to bow your head and serve the state..." Red optics pierced blue, delivering his verdict.

"Well, then, if you are destined to wear and bear those heavy shackles, then I have no choice but to take those chains and lead you, just as any good master should."

Silence reigned, clutching at Optronix with jagged claws, pulling him down until his knees fell weak.

_'What...'_ Horror instilled. _'No...No!'_

"No!" Optronix put forth all his effort, shoving with both arms. "Not to the likes of you!"

The motion of pushing the Decepticon away left his escape unbarred micro millimeters further. He squeezed free, making a haphazard run towards the stairway. With every astrosecond, he drew even closer, the exit so far, so teasingly beyond his reach. _'Please, just a bit further. I'm so close!'_ He prayed for Primus to deliver sanctuary, to provide a safe haven away from the Pit-spawned demon at his back.

Mercy went undelivered; judged, weighed, and destined to fail.

Not even Primus could save him.

He screamed in fury, howled in agony as arms looped around his waist, coiling tight. Lifting off his pedes, the sudden halt threw him in the opposite direction of the stairway door. He beat at the silver arms, claws at the dermal layers of metal. "Damn you! To the Pit and back!" Optronix cursed, kicking wildly.

Megatron twisted around, and threw Optronix away, further from the door. Hitting the ground, the mech gasped in pain as his shoulder met the floor. A gear snapped and the entire limb hang limp, dead weight, and spreading numbness across his pain receptors signaling that his shoulder had been dislocated. "Aa-Ahhhh.." He moaned, curling into a fetal position, tucking the injured limb to his chest.

'Surprise' did not apply enough meaning for what he experienced next.

The sudden concentrated impact of a metal foot snapping into the center of his lower spine.

Pain tore into his spine. A scream of agony escaped, the blow neatly severing connected nerves running up and down the metal connection. Like the dislocated arm, his lower limbs fell slack, instantly disconnected.

Optronix lay splayed across the floor, a broken metal doll. He shivered, caught by the adrenaline, pain, and terror suffocating his vocal processor. _'My...my legs...'_ A moan of horror, _'I can't move or feel them.'_

"You shouldn't have done that." Megatron admonished, crouching down beside the broken mech. "Did you honestly believe that you would escape? If not from me, then what about my soldiers who have the entire city overrun?"

He laid a hand over the blue helm. Optronix trembled, anticipating another blow that, thankfully, did not fall.

"It was your own fault." Megatron insists coldly. "It wouldn't have been necessary if you would simply learn to stop resisting." He brushed away several trembling beads of cleaning fluids trickling from blue optic lens. "Pain is a cruel teacher." Rising to stand, looming above the damaged mech.

Optronix leaned over, the majority of his weight upon his single working limb. His vents worked rapidly, lips lax as he sucked in deep draughts of intake, trying to focus his pain receptors away from the last lingering shivers that the sparking connections along his spine released, attempting to reconnect with both legs.

Megatron's foot hooked underneath Optronix's hip, easily nudging him until he flopped over onto his back, numb arm stretched above his helm, legs splayed wide. "What a picture you would make." The Decepticon leader purred, pressing further, placing his foot into the smooth juncture connecting Optronix's groin and thigh.

The archivist whimpers, remotely able to sense the brush or pressure, but the sight alone of the Decepticon standing above, foot dangerously close to his plug and port left him wishing that he could curl away from the touch.

Megatron hummed in thought, but did not deign to reveal his contemplation to the smaller mech. Rather he arched his right wrist, rotating the forearm partway. A loud snap and the black cannon came free from the mounting, crashing hard upon the floor, rolling away from the two mechs.

"What are you doing?" Optronix asked, whisper soft.

"Making use of the situation," Megatron finally supplied. Optronix observed in distant confusion as the Decepticon shifted his foot, but only to crouch down and rest between his legs. Megatron cupped his hands beneath Optronix's knees, lifting the limbs until they cradled the Decepticon's waist. "Wait..." Optronix demanded. "What are you doing?" He repeated again.

Megatron grinned ferally, lifting Optronix's leg further, fangs brushing the edge of the sensitive dermal plate. "Take a guess."

Optronix's chest rose and fell sporadically, vents erratic. Megatron crowds forward, pressing chassis to chassis. "But, first..." Megatron's hands felt along the dislocated shoulder. Finding the right angle, with quick efficient force he snapped the rotor back into line. Optronix cried out weakly as the limb reconnected, sensation flooding his arm, tingling a dozen times more sharply than when he had ever fallen into heavy recharge while relaxing upon the limb only to wake up with the energon circulation cut off.

"Don't look so surprised." Megatron slid his hands free. "I would rather have both limbs activated so that you can wrap your arms around me. Pity I won't do the same for your legs, but you're too much of a runner to risk that."

A rich flush of energon painted his facial plating, Optronix catching the lewd meaning. "You wouldn't..." Optronix gulped. "A war wages outside these walls and this is what you decide to focus your attention on?"

"The war is already won, Optronix." Megatron slid a hand down his chassis, leaning forward to run glossa along the metal ridges. Optronix shuddered under the wet heat. "I am merely taking luxury in enjoying my prize."

"Nnnn..." Optronix squeezed optics tight, hands trembling and falling to rest on broad silver shoulders.

Megatron's hand slid lower, and he pushed the tip of his glossa deep into an indentation upon the rightmost edge of Optronix's metal breastplate. "Ahh!" Optronix's gasp pitched high, fingers digging into silver skin. His chin tucks down to touch his chest, body curling inward instinctively. "Don't do that."

"Why?" Megatron asked, peering up at Optronix over the perimeter of his chest. "Doesn't your pretty little femme make you cry out like this?"

Optronix bit his lip, not desiring to rise towards the mech's baiting, turning optics to face the wall.

Megatron grinned, rubies flashing. "Ahhhhhhhhh." He whispered, understanding. "She's never touched you in this way." He said, triumphant.

"It's still too soon for such things." Optronix whispered, defending his lover. "Neither of us is experienced or confident, because our relationship is still too young. We decided to wait."

"All the better for me," Megatron ordained. Glossa flicked lightly, dancing like a cobra, damping the broad line of a single rib.

"Please, don't..." Optronix curled in upon himself, position tucking him forward until his face was buried into Megatron's collarbone. "Stop..." His hands scrabbled for purchase.

"You don't need to beg." Megatron purred. "I have no plans to stop."

"That's not what I meant--" Succeeding in distracting the archivist long enough, Megatron's hand pushed between his thighs, locating the interlocked gates guarding the mech's port. _"No..."_ Optronix shuddered, thighs trembling as fingers tested the strength of the locks.

"Unbroken, I see." Megatron noted in surprise. "Just as you were the last time I touched you here." He stroked forefinger and middle finger along the metal skin, feeling the plates throb under his touch, responding towards the pressure teasing the gated path.

Optronix gnawed his bottom lip between his teeth, shuddering with each brush.

"And how sensitive..." Megatron said in delight. "I would bet a year's supply of high-grade that your port and your plug are unexplored. You and your femme wouldn't have lasted a breem together!"

"Don't speak of her like that."

"I'll speak about that piece of slag anyway I want." Megatron growled, applying more pressure. His other hand cupped the curve of the archivist's aft, forcing him to arch against the invaders pushing against his port's gates. "Why should I have anything but contempt for the mech who wouldn't appreciate **this**?"

Between another forced arch of hips and thighs, Megatron's fingers broke the gates' connection.

Optronix's head falls back, mouth opening wide in a silent scream as fingers delve into his port.

Megatron growls against his neck, fingers crooking pulling him forward to rock against the Decepticon's groin. Lubricants teased fingers and hand, port instinctively reacting to the pressure and weight stroking its inner walls.

"Ooooohhh.." Optronix moaned weakly. In a daze of pleasure and pain, he peered down between the spaces of their bodies, helpless to watch his body impaling itself upon the Decepticon's hand.

His forehead fell against Megatron's, but only for a moment. Noticing their proximity, Megatron dove forward and captured his lips, invading Optronix's mouth with eager glossa and sharp fangs. Ruby and sapphire overshadowed another, a haze of burning fire and smoking dry ice settling over their faces as optics flared at maximum capacity.

It was a long moment before Megatron releases him. Optronix gulped air, face tinged further from lack of fresh ventilation. "Breathe." Megatron admonished.

"I can't hel-haaaa!" Fingers stroked, right _there_. "I can't help it." He whimpered. "You were suffocating me."

Low chuckle, "It's called a kiss." The Decepticon provided. "Did you expect anything else?"

Optronix's flush could not burn brighter. Embarrassed, he did not have the Spark to attempt to explain that kisses shared with Ariel were _nothing_ like Megatron's. Optronix could recall on one hand the number of times his and Ariel's glossa had intertwined accidentally during a kiss. Most of those kisses were fleeting, gentle brushes of lips, mechs more focused on enjoying each other's close proximity rather than delving into carnal pleasures.

Megatron appeared quite capable of reading the mech's mind. "You really are unbroken." He grinned, squeezing Optronix's aft until the pressure drew another shaky gasp, and rocks their groins together, hard. The smaller mech's eyes roll back, regaining his breath, but the immense strained pleasure and overheating body. "Don't offline on me. I want you online to watch the finale." The Decepticon commands.

Two wet fingers slip free from Optronix's port, palm lightly coated with the warm lubricants. Deciding that Optronix's body is stretched and prepped enough for his liking, the hand slipped to his own groin.

His plug shot out of its compartment, eager and ready, impatiently waiting until Megatron finally allowed the compartment plates to slide aside.

Optronix nearly leapt out of his metal skin at the large snap of Megatron's plug popping free. He understood the basic faculties and reactions mechs experienced prior and during interfacing, but having never been an experienced participant, the course of the hurried mishandling provide him little time to keep up or adequately process. "Wait." Megatron fitted his paralyzed legs into a more accessible position, folding the limbs until they sat naturally around the Decepticon's waist. "Isn't this rushing things a bit?!" He asked, desperate to stop the mech or make him pause for one moment.

"Stop wriggling about." Megatron wrapped a hand around his plug, fingers acting as a guide, "If you struggle too hard, this will only hurt us both."

Why wouldn't the mech understand? Optronix squeezed small metal plates around optic glass together until the lenses nearly shut. He had been saving himself, panels unbroken, wanting to be with the right mech at the right time to experience such a momentous occasion when partners interfaced for the very first time...And Megatron...if Megatron did not stop, all of his hopes and wishes would have been for nothing.

His port quivered around the tip of the plug, slowly penetrating the furnace-hot well. Megatron shoved forward, and Optronix wrapped his arms around his neck, back hitting the floor with the Decepticon blanketing the red and blue form.

Achieving the right angle, Megatron slipped his hands upwards to brace Optronix's shoulders, pulling mechanical bodies together and tight, face twisted in a grimace. One sharp, hard thrust and his plug delved deeper. The mech snarled, shuddering around the heat encasing his plug, clenching snug around him.

Optronix cried out, arms pulling hard until metal creaked in warning. Electricity sparked along limbs, elicited by the sharp friction. Lava heat erupted beneath his plug compartment, port forcefully penetrated by the invader. A fraction of Megatron's plug was visible, the silver mech's broad chest heaving as vents worked overtime, the almost complete penetration holding his focus.

"Easy." Megatron pushed his temple against Optronix's, "The hard part is over."

Optronix refused to meet those menacing red optics, face warped by pain and anguish. "It wasn't meant for you." He bit past the agony.

"Then who?" Megatron demanded. Optronix whimpers, body rocking as the Decepticon breached the miniscule space left between them, plug finally pushed as far as it could physically delve. "Your pretty femme? Or another lucky mech, perhaps."

"It doesn't matter." Optronix cut in.

"It does." His hands squeezed, holding him further prisoner. "If you think I will allow any other mech to dare to mimic where I lay, then you are a fool. I'll gut any mech who dares such an attempt."

"I'm not yours to own." Optronix refuses to comply.

**"Cease blinding your optics, Optronix."** Megatron pushed forward, faces millimeters apart. "This is my city, my world, _My Order_! Within the old regime, you were a civilian. In this world now, you are my prize. And do not dare to think you have any say in the matter!"

"You're mad." Optronix whispered shortly.

"Mad by conviction. I merely kept my word, sweet mech." Megatron smiled darkly, "I warned you, didn't I? I took no shame in cautioning you should I ever find you again. I planned to seize everything with one clean tactical move, a single precise _thrust_—"

Exemplifying his words, the Decepticon's hips rotate.

"Haaaa!" Optronix's shoved back minutely from the force, fingers delving into round shoulder plates.

_"And I will capture everyone and everything on this planet for my own_!" The Decepticon leader promised savagely.

_'Spoken like any good tyrant._' Optronix groaned softly, crying with each hard thrust. He buries his forehead against Megatron's chest, silver chin pushing down upon blue helm. "Just get it over with." Optronix hisses, chrome lips pressed to silver.

The Decepticon growled low, meeting the mech's words in challenge. "As you wish," The tempo escalated. Optronix barely given time for single intake of air before another thrust stole his breath. "NNnn—" He could not stand his body's eager betrayal, arching with every thrill of pleasure and fire. Port and thighs grew damper, slick from lubricants forced out each time Megatron moved deeper. Optronix felt as if he was being ruined, metal skin tainted with the Decepticon's every touch.

Megatron's neck stretched taut, metal veins pounding hard to pump energon further throughout his large frame. The wet heat and shivering flesh pushed him further, inciting the mech to pound harder. Rolling motion of his thrusts forced Optronix's legs wider, and the Decepticon purred, realizing that the spreading limbs allowed his plug to brush at different angles, drawing sharper cries from his partner.

Optronix tilts his head away to avoid their lips brushing, but Megatron merely indulged in nipping the corded metal of the mech's angled throat. Energon pumped beneath the dermal layer, teasing the Decepticon with a small taste when he bit deeper, violet droplets dabbing his lips as fangs sliced metal flesh.

The archivist turned optics away from the sight of his fluid painting the mech's lips, beads of energon slipping down his own, biting into the flesh of his bottom lip to remain as silent as possible.

"I can see the thoughts painted across your face." Megatron whispered into his antenna. "You can't help but hate and yet love this, all at the same time."

Optronix's optics brightened minutely. "Don't give yourself so much credit, Decepticon." He interjects.

"Hard not to, when I have you arching beneath me, captured by my every fleeting touch," Megatron ran the edge of his glossa along the blue sheen of Optronix's antenna. "Your words do not match the language of your body."

Optronix was far too distracted to answer coherently, panting sharply around a creeping wave of heat and static settling in a molten ball deep within his Spark and lower abdomen.

Megatron appears caught in the sharp jaws as well, metal denta creaking, clenching forcefully together. Red optics squeeze into thin slivers, ruby miasma spilling from snake-slit corneas. His hips moved sporadic, and the mechs' breaths misted together, Optronix's neck arced back helplessly, consumed alive by the fierce inferno raging inside.

The Decepticon, realizing sooner than the archivist does, dove forward, welding their mouths together. Not an astrosecond later, Optronix arched sharply, voice efficiently muffled but repeatedly crying out when he breaches a previously unmapped invisible threshold. He rocks steadily, a puppet tied by gossamer strings, dancing under the hands of pleasure ascending mercilessly.

Port tightening convulsively around his plug, Megatron's head flew back, letting loose a powerful roar that shook the hall. Reaching climax, electric pulses fired, plug acting as the conduit. Shoulders and back rippled, folding over Optronix, a momentary prisoner while his plug and form moved helplessly in the throes of intense gratification.

The electric pulses shoot upward, running straight through his Spark. Warning bars flashed across Optronix's optical screens, signaling that his systems, disorientated and alarmed, were running emergency coolants through his inner vitals in hopes to stifle the overheating mechanics. In a daze, he accessed an old file in his memory banks, a younger Optronix overhearing older mechs talking lewdly about interfacing for the first time, and how young mechs would sometimes overheat during their first 'tumble'. Such an event was a notch of pride for certain mechs, who took great pleasure in partners losing control over their faculties.

Optronix prays to Primus, if those mechs' talk was indeed factual, that it would prove to be a one-time event.

He would do everything within his capabilities to ensure that. Including any means to prevent interfacing with the larger mech again.

Their vents ran loud, expelling and pulling in deep draughts of air. Optronix can not find the strength to lift his helm off from the floor.

Suddenly a comm link beeps, and the mechs startle. _"LORD MEGATRON. MEGATRON, SIR."_

Megatron snarled in impatience, propping his weight upon one arm, other hand rising and pressing against his temple. He lightly pressed upon a small indistinct strip of metal, activating the private communication line. "What is it?" He demanded sharply. "This better be important." The warning was clear, the mech's life forfeit if his calls were proven as a waste of the Decepticon's time.

_"S-SIR! FAON HAS FALLEN! THE REMAINING AUTOBOTS HAVE SIGNALED A RETREAT. THE CITY IS OURS—THE CITY IS YOURS, LORD MEGATRON!"_

"And did you bother to attain prisoners as I commanded, or did you scrap every single mech that stumbled across your path?"

_"WE HAVE A NUMBER OF PRISONERS, AND ARE LOADING AND SHIPPING THEM BACK TO BASE AT THIS VERY MOMENT."_ The speaker across the comm link is quick to provide updated information, eager to remain on his leader's good side. _"SHOCKWAVE AND SOUNDWAVE CAPTURED A SMALL GROUP OF PRISONERS, ALL ASSOCIATED WITH THE AUTOBOT FORCES. STARSCREAM, AS WELL. HIS WING MATES, THUNDERCRACKER AND SKYWARP, ACQUIRED A CIVILIAN SCIENTIST. ALSO, A LARGE PORTION OF THE TROOPS ROUNDED UP ANY CIVILIANS WHO WERE UNABLE TO ESCAPE BEYOND THE BLOCKADE."_

"I am glad to hear that not all of my soldiers are complete incompetents." Optronix listens intently, worried for the prisoners, and fearing that a few were in fact very dear friends of his, unsuccessful and powerless to escape the tide of Decepticon shock troopers. "Inform Shockwave, Soundwave, Starscream, and his wing mates, that the prisoners are their responsibility, and that they may do with as they see fit once I have personally inspected the prisoners to determine their value.

"Inform the shock troopers to hold the blockade, and assign the Special Forces units to continue patrols within the city. I want this city completely dismantled and made ready for Decepticon occupation in less than a week. All injured mechs are to return to base, as well as units two, three, five, seven, eight, and nine. Units one, four, six, eleven, thirteen, and fifteen will take over positions immediately."

_"AS YOU COMMAND, LORD MEGATRON."_

"End communication." The line clicked, falling silent as the mech severed the connection. "Now...As for you." Megatron said, not forgetting about his prone companion.

Optronix stiffened as a hand slid over, fingers probing the slim seams of metal plates and smooth cables of his neck. "Haven't you had adequate gratification?" He asks, gritting denta against the probing caress.

Megatron scoffed. "Hardly." The Decepticon replied. "However, I can't have you causing a scene during transport back to base."

Before Optronix can form a coherent reply, let alone force his body to attempt to struggle within his captor's arms, Megatron snapped the hand down, fingers applying the correct concentration and force into the necessary nerve cluster within the stretched neck.

Optronix's optics fire, burning bright, signal feedback from the blow struck his processors and mainframe. Static rose in a wave, and warnings rattled across his screen, but all quickly sank down into the maw of a roaring cyclone, the black hole pulling warning bars and optic screens down into darkness.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Tyrant  
Author: dreamerchaos  
Beta: None  
Warning: Slash, possible gore, and AU. Anyone who knows me, also knows of my rabid fondness for AUs. Mature, and will rate up to MATURE. Be Warned.  
Pairing: MegatronxOptronix. Also non-con pairings  
Disclaimer: Transformers is owned and copyrighted by Hasbro and others beside myself. I'm only playing with the boys and girls.  
I've recently been fascinated by the possibility of Megatron and Optimus having met before Optimus (or Optronix) became a Prime, and how that would have affected the war on Cybertron.  
My basic knowledge about Transformers and terms for certain anatomy stems from a wide array of fanfiction. I approach this fic after reading the IDW graphic novel Megatron: Origin. Any mistakes are mine entirely.

CHAPTER THREE

"He Is Coming Out Of Stasis, Lord Megatron."

"At last." Firm pressure nudges the perimeter of his face, fingers dragging softly along metal cheek plates. "Turn your optics online, Optronix. I know that you are astir and aware."

Optronix senses his optics complying, screen pulsing white before a swimming fog of shadows and balls of bright light filled the mech's range of vision. Metal eyebrow ridges squint in confusion, trying to make sense of the bulky shadows looming over him. The bright bulbs bolted into the ceiling are the first to come into focus, fluorescent white causing his optics to sting from the sharp brightness. His chronometer indicated that he had been in compelled stasis for several full cycles.

He sharply brushes the hand upon his face away and attempted to prop himself up, sensors indicating that he lay upon a recharge bed, or some sort of medical table. Hands stopped him, coaxing him back down to return to lying flat. "Remain Still." The shadow on his left instructed. "Coordination and Balance Running At Minimal Capacity. Wait Until Optical Screens Become Focused."

"Where am I?" Optronix's optics worked harder, and the shadows begin to form into two mechs. Decepticon insignias stared down at him, the first manifestations rising into clear focus. "Oh, no..." He moaned, immediately realizing he was in the last place that he had hoped to be.

"Welcome back online, Optronix." Megatron's greeting matched the dark playfulness in his smile. "Happy to have you back with us."

"I'm not awake." Optronix rolled onto his side, back facing the Decepticon leader. "I haven't woken up from this nightmare." He wrapped both arms around his waist, seeking comfort and shelter.

Megatron sighed, "Soundwave?" He demanded impatiently, "Is he functioning adequately?"

'Soundwave' turns out to be a sapphire, visor red, alabaster-white Decepticon, face impassive behind a white faceplate, red visor offering no emotion. The mech answered Megatron's scrutiny. "Confirmed. Legs Now Operating, And Other Repairs Made. Used Opportunity To Wash And Polish Body, Due To Marks That His Systems Did Not Immediately Repair, And Purged The Remaining Dried Fluids."

Optronix moans internally, hiding his face away in embarrassment. He didn't need a reminder of his and Megatron prior interfacing, and Soundwave speaking about such things with the same monotone voice, as if merely discussing a change in Cybertron's weather patterns.

"Excellent!" Megatron congratulates the mech on a job well done. "And he is ready to be released as soon as his optics regains their bearing?"

"Yes."

"You have done well, Soundwave." Megatron turns away to peer over silver shoulder plate, optics noting the distant section of the large room. "You are probably eager to continue on your own projects. Just do not forget to inform me when your Cassetticons return to base."

"As You Command, Lord Megatron." Soundwave, dismissed by his leader, calmly returns to his previous engagement, striding to stand between two paralleled, set medical beds, a mech laid on each and silently awaiting the Decepticon.

Optronix hissed in surprise, recognizing the white and black mech, red chevron insignia upon his forehead. Prowl lays silent, still as death, face relaxed within deep stasis lock. Distant, black scorch marks riddle the officer's chassis and limbs, deep gouging wounds covered by large metal compresses that maintained the flow of resonating energon, assisting the mech's body to provide repairs for the extensive damage.

Almost hidden on the opposite side of Soundwave and Prowl's prone form, Optronix recognizes Jazz. The Autobot saboteur said and did nothing, only remains seated on a rickety metal chair, visor turned towards the unconscious Security officer, black hands holding the officer's lax hand between his.

The other mech, body painted vibrant red, helm bearing two smoothly rounded antennas, and frame formatted to accommodate the inlaid cassette chamber within his chest, cassette screen propped open. The unknown mech's white face shifts, a frown marring his lips as Soundwave reached into his own cassette chamber, sliding several thick cables from storage, and snapped the lines in place into the mech's bared internal chest components. A shudder rippled through the body, limbs twitching, reacting to the current of electricity as Soundwave reestablished the connection until now maintained, before his leader's interruption.

Optronix sensed the hands' approach, black fingers calmly turning his face away from Soundwave and his projects. "Get up, Optronix." Megatron slid an arm under the red and blue mech's shoulders, lifting him with ease. Optronix sat up, optics blinking bright then pale, adjusting to the elevated angle. He propped his forehead upon his hands, taking a moment to regain himself.

Megatron remained silent, patiently allowing Optronix the time necessary. Finally, feeling daring enough to try, Optronix swung his legs over to dangle down the side of the bed. With careful concentration, he slid from the bed and onto his feet—and the arm suddenly around his waist prevents him from crashing onto his aft.

"Don't rush it." Propped against Megatron's hip, Optronix wants to melt into the floor and slip through the cracks, face flushed in embarrassment and aggravation, body as weak as a sparkling and not cooperating with a single fragging command!

One klik ran into another, and he took sparkling steps, relieving the stiffness in his knee joints, cables and filaments stretching, shaking free the last scraps of stasis induced 'rust'. He hung onto the Decepticon like a cripple, held firmly against warm metal, beyond the point in time when he could manage to remain on his feet. "You can let go now." He muttered, not removing his optics from the floor.

"If you insist," Megatron took his precious time removing the limb, savoring each brush along Optronix's metal skin.

Optronix shot away from the Decepticon, nearly falling onto his aft a second time because of his hurry. Megatron followed patiently right on his heels as the mech approaches the doors, hurrying to stay as far away from the leader as physically possible.

The doors shot open before Optronix reaches them, sliding apart to reveal a red, white, and cobalt Seeker roughly matching Optronix's size except for the thrusters rising over the horizon of his shoulders made him appear larger and more menacing. Optronix immediately fell back, startled by the Decepticon Seeker's sudden appearance.

The mech's red optics dismissed the civilian, complete focus on the struggling white and red mech within his arms. Cobalt hands hold the resisting mech tight against the gold cockpit of his chest. Optronix was incapable of determining the shape or color of the struggling mech's antenna, given that the appendages are flashing a bright white and blue, emitting sharp snapping pops of static electricity.

_"Soundwave!"_ Optronix leapt, again startled, this time however by the screeching pitch of the Seeker's voice box. "Your assumption was fragging worthless! Look at him now!" Hands still holding onto the mech, he shoves the smaller bot in Soundwave's general direction, shaking him roughly between tightly squeezing fingers. "Look at what I have to put up with! I am sick of this! _I want you to do a memory wipe._"

"Let me go!" The mech threw his weight against the Seeker, smacking his fists against the gold cockpit. "Inferno! I want to see Inferno!" He begged, shouting for that mystery mech that possesses his CPU. Sparks pop louder, metal antennas hissing from the heat.

The mention of that name only incites the Seeker into a further rage, a metal god rising from a molten sea of flames. **"Shut your mouth!"** He roared, pushing and forcing the mech deeper into Soundwave's laboratory, not giving his prisoner an inch to recover. "I'm sick and tired of listening to your constant whimpering. I'll rip out my antennas if I hear that name again! That infernal mech is gone! _Get it through that thick helm of yours!_"

Soundwave did not deign to avert red visor from his red mech and acknowledge the abrupt shouting invading the quiet of the Decepticon's workspace, although sapphire shoulders drooped minutely in a silent sign of acceptance. It appears he is not destined to be left alone for one cycle to work on his own projects without facing further interruption. "Bring Him." He waved a hand in the vague direction indicating the medical bed where Optronix once laid.

Megatron observed the occurring drama with only half-interest, unmoving while Starscream literally drags the red and white mech kicking and screaming. Once the Seeker and prisoner were finally past the mechs and leaving the doorway unhindered, the Decepticon throwing the smaller mech onto the bed, Megatron turned his optics away. Pushing at Optronix's back, his voice broached no argument. "Time to leave and allow Soundwave a measure of privacy while he works on his newest project."

"But what about him?" Megatron's bulk obstructed his view, peering over a shoulder to try to catch a glimpse of the shouting mech, screams escalating as Soundwave separates cables from the unknown, unconscious red mech, rising to join the Seeker beside the medical bed. Before he is led, more so pushed from the room, he catches sight of the two Decepticons pinning the mech flat, Soundwave's hands spreading wide upon each side of the struggling bot's helm.

"That is for Soundwave to decide." The doors slide shut behind them. Through the sealed entryway, Optronix hears another agonizing wail, precise words indiscernible, but the agony never mutes. "As a telepath, he is the most suited for determining the state of a mech's logic chips and mainframe."

_"He's going to force himself into that poor mech's mainframe?"_

Megatron shrugged carelessly, feeling no upset by the less then pure means of force or persuasion his operatives impose among their own personal endeavors. "If he will not bow, then Soundwave will merely... encourage him to bend."

Optronix prepares to say something, enraged and disgusted by the Decepticon's lack of caring that an innocent mech's mainframe was currently being forcefully hacked into and laid open like a mere datapad, naked and small under roving optics, when a sharp hiss arose from Megatron's comm link.

_"Lord Megatron, Sir."_

The Decepticon sighed in minute annoyance. "Not a moment of peace." He lifts a hand, establishing the connection. "What is it now, Shockwave?"

_"I Wish To Speak With You, Sir. Immediately. In Regards To The Proceeding Development Of The Warheads, And Suitable Planetary Systems For The Establishment Of Energon Deposits."_

"I see." Red optics flicker in Optronix's direction. "I will be there shortly."

The voice over the connection hissed through the brief static. _"Confirmed."_

Megatron cut his end of the link. "Would it be too much of me to trust you to stay out of trouble?" He turns, facing his 'guest'.

Optronix scowls, voice sullen. "Would I be too blunt in asking if there was any possible chance of me leaving this place unhindered or unscathed?"

"The guards have been informed of your presence." Optics flared bright, red flames holding him in place. "Also, they are aware not to cause unwarranted damage, but to use necessary force to hinder if you decide to leave the proximity of the base."

"So I should stay put, like a good little prisoner."

"You can explore the base, as my _guest_." Megatron corrects. "As long as you behave and wipe that pout from your face plates. These are the only rules: Do not leave the base, and do not enter any rooms or corridors that are barred or locked."

"That's it?" Optronix turns, optics following as the mech took his leave, heading in the direction of his update with Shockwave. "You really expect me to behave and do as you say?"

Megatron paused, long enough to deliver a sharp grin over his shoulder. "Do you really want to find out what will happen should you disobey me?" He inquires, optics assuring, burning in unsung warning, should his guest actually dare to test the trembling fragments of luck that maybe, _maybe_, offer a glimmer of a chance of escape from the Decepticon base.

Optronix, incapable of providing a sufficient answer, vocal processor muted by the large mech's underlined promising threat, left alone in the long corridor as Megatron continues on his way.

It is a long time before he is willing to test the fortitude of locked kneecaps, not needing to dread possibly crumbling into a heap, released of the oppressive optics and dark ominous presence.

* * *

"Op-Optronix?"

He looks over a shoulder, catching sight of a familiar blue and red mech, microscope barrel mounted over the other's right shoulder. "Perceptor?"

The young scientist's dusky face split into a shy, yet elated grin. "It is you!" He laughs, joyful. Optronix meets him halfway, the mechs greeting the other with open arms, relieved to discover that a dear companion was alive and functioning well.

"I'm so glad that I found another friend." Perceptor mumbled into red curve of his shoulder.

"Oh, my friend, I wish we didn't have to meet in such a place." Optronix choked by the grip of relief and a tinge of regret to have a reunion within the vast halls of a Decepticon fortress. "There are others here as well?" His helm presses against the scientist's, absorbing the bulk and heat of the mech's comforting presence.

"Yes." Perceptor wriggled free, slipping loose from Optronix's hold, but hands remaining to clasp over his shoulders. "Several, in fact."

"I saw Prowl and Jazz." Optronix's optics shutter, memory banks recalling the image of the Security officer lying on a cold medical bed severely damaged, and the saboteur gripping the mech's limp black fingers. "What on Cybertron happened?"

"I don't know the entire story." Perceptor admits, "What I do know is that Prowl was assisting civilians when he fell under heavy fire.

"Did you happen to see another mech with him? Red, and with a cassette unit set into his chest?" Optronix nodded, encouraging the scientist to continue. "That's Blaster. From what I am aware, Soundwave had full intentions of capturing Blaster, but he also took Prowl when he came across the officer weakened and injured from his wounds. He took the measures to acquire Blaster because both he and Soundwave have the same basic formatting, and excel in communications. Prowl was an additional bonus, since he is an Autobot, as well as a Security officer."

"And Jazz?"

"Well..." Perceptor bit his lip. "That's a bit confusing. The only piece of information that I possess, is that Jazz refused to leave Prowl, and ended up following Soundwave when the Decepticon stabilized Prowl and organized transport back to this base."

"Are there any others?" Optronix asked. "Are there any other of our friends here?"

"I did manage to see Ratchet." Optronix's memory flickers, pulling up an image of a stern, yet empathetic red and white Autobot medic. "But only for a moment. Brought in by the mech known as Shockwave. I..." Perceptor trembled slightly, cowed by the memory of the Decepticon holding Ratchet prisoner. "I haven't seen him since. Shockwave has kept him confined for the past few orns, and only allows Soundwave and Meg-Megatron into his private chambers."

"But why?"

"Shockwave and Ratchet have met before...I think on the battlefields." Perceptor hushed as a guard strode past, red optics scanning the two mechs as the large soldier repeats patrol pattern down the length of the intersected corridors. The meek scientist wrapped his hands around Optronix's forearm, and both quickly hurried away, wanting to avoid further attention. "However small their encounters may have been, Shockwave personally requested that Ratchet be relinquished into his care."

"What do you make of all of it?" Optronix asked, pushing for further information.

"I don't know. But...given that Ratchet was injured as badly, perhaps worse than Prowl, he may be in the best care that he can get." The scientist admits in a hurried whisper. "There are only a handful of medics among the Decepticons, and fewer still who match Ratchet's skill. Shockwave is the only mech who possesses the skill to repair the damage that he's sustained."

_'Ratchet...'_ Already several of his closest comrades were suffering due to the rage of the Decepticon forces and the attacks on Faon. From what he recollects witnessing from the highest floors of the city's Library, the Autobots had not stood a chance, outnumbered and outgunned. Like a small island facing a towering tsunami.

Moreover, he wanted to kick himself for not remembering the friend closest to him now, one who has suffered alongside but gone unnoticed or unmentioned. "I'm so sorry, Perceptor." Optronix apologized, sincerely regretting to ask about the scientist's welfare. "Here I've been so focused on everyone else's current welfare that I completely failed to question how you are doing."

"O-Oh!" Perceptor stutters, embarrassed by the sudden attention without warning focused upon him. "I'm all right! Really, Optronix. Considering how things might have occurred..." He leaves his words to die in silence.

"What did happen?" The doors in front open wide, conversing mechs continuing at a sedate pace. It was not as if there was any place to go outside of their current domicile, constrained accommodations or otherwise. "How did you end up here?"

Perceptor sighed, microscope barrel drooping. "Wrong place, wrong time," The admittance causes the mech to laugh, forcing a brief smile to alleviate the tension. "I was in the labs by myself, organizing my station for the next project assignment. I did not anticipate two Seekers suddenly crashing through the ceiling and nearly landing on top of me. They'd overshot another building, scanning for any Autobot squads taking refuge on various floors."

"Primus, to land inside the labs..."

"Yes, thank goodness all of the more noxious and combustible chemicals were properly stored away, for once." Perceptor tugged on his arm, indicating to take a left turn when they reached an intersection in the halls. "The other way leads to the Stadium and the Pit." He informed, noting Optronix's questioning gaze. "You don't want to go there if you are required."

"The Decepticons host Pit Fights?" Optronix was horrified.

"That is the more tame uses." Perceptor was clearly uncomfortable talking about it. "More appropriately, it's where the Decepticons host the Executions."

Optronix quickly works to shift the direction of their conversation. "The Seekers?" He encouraged the scientist to continue.

"Several of Megatron's more bloodthirsty and most dangerous soldiers, Perceptor's face relaxed, relieved by the shift, "Thundercracker and Skywarp. Their wingmate, Starscream, captured an Autobot several floors below the labs. He captured Red Alert, one of the newest Autobots who shows great knowledge and skill within security and safety details."

_'The Decepticon who burst into Soundwave's lab. And the poor mech he dragged inside with him...'_ Optronix frowned in thought. "I may have seen this Starscream and Red Alert not too long ago. This Seeker was dragging a red and white mech into Soundwave's lab, demanding that Soundwave perform some sort of memory wipe."

"Poor Red Alert…Starscream is terrifying, even compared to Skywarp and Thundercracker. Matters far worse, Red Alert is still grieving after losing his partner, Inferno. I don't think the mech survived Faon's collapse through the Decepticons' barrage."

"I don't think anyone will escape." Optronix's voice tolls hollow, ringing as emptily as his Spark. Aching with the knowledge that so many may still perish at the hands of Megatron's army. "Cybertron is falling beneath the hands of a tyrant. I dread that every city will collapse within his palm."

Perceptor's next whisper sounded equally bleak. "I wish I could say something to disagree with your assessment, but I don't think there is anyone or anything left that could stand against the Decepticons now. After Sentinel Prime fell at Megatron's hands, the Autobots scrambled to determine the next leader, and appointed Ultra Magnus as the next Prime. But even bearing the Matrix, Maximus Prime can't recover the Autobots' numbers and endurance rapidly enough to continue a fight that many feel is already lost."

They allowed a moment of silence, each contemplating personal dark thoughts.

After a long time passed, Optronix's whisper escapes, desperately asking, "Have you heard about or seen Ariel?"

"Ariel?" Perceptor blinked. "N-No. I mean, yes! She is here inside the base as well; taken prisoner by the first wave of soldiers. I found her name among the announced lists of mechs and Autobots held imprisoned. But I haven't actually _seen_ her." He cautions, not wanting Optronix' hopes to rise too high.

"I see." Relief leaves his vents weak, a small smile spreading across his face. "I'm just glad to hear that she is okay. Not entirely safe, by any means, but intact nonetheless."

"We are all walking on sharp glass, it seems." Perceptor admits. "Being at the mercy of our captors is like sleeping in a den of mech-lions. I'm always afraid that I will witness the Seekers' logic circuits crack, and punishment befalls another helpless mech."

"They attack other mechs indiscriminately?"

"Indiscriminately? Not by their definition." Perceptor shudders, optics dimmed. "Just a cycle ago, during the time that you were probably still in stasis, a young femme that I knew from the labs approached me. Before I knew it, she threw her arms around my neck and hugged me close, ecstatic to find another mech who had survived the Decepticon attack.

"We...Neither of us saw Skywarp or Thundercracker coming down the hall, returning from a short reconnaissance mission, rendezvousing after they'd finished with their report to Megatron." The scientist wrapped red and cobalt arms around his waist, wilting right before Optronix's optics. "Before I knew what was happening, the femme was ripped away from me. I fell back onto the floor from a hand hitting my chassis, helplessly watching as the two Seekers began tearing her to pieces."

"Perceptor..."

"They left her there, Optronix, after they were done." He whimpered, his dark face pinched in agony. "All that poor femme did was wrap her arms around me....And they left her while she was still functioning and bleeding energon all over the floor! They did not let me attempt to tend to her wounds, dragging me away no matter how many times that I begged for them to let me go back to her and stop the bleeding. By the time I managed to slip free from the Seekers, and find my way back, the cleanup drones were removing the last stains of energon from the walls."

"But it was only a misunderstanding." Optronix says in disbelief. "To attack so aggressively without a moment to contemplate the severity of their actions. One unarmed femme is no match against two Seekers!"

"Starscream performed an act similar to another mech." Perceptor continued, futilely rubbing at the translucent fluids trickling from shuttered optics, black fingers masking his face. "Red Alert was, and still is, traumatized by the loss of Inferno. One of the few times that Starscream allowed him access outside of his chambers, Red Alert stumbled across a Decepticon soldier who bore a startling resemblance to his partner. Red Alert threw himself into the mech's arms, calling, 'Inferno!' until his vocal processors were strained."

"Oh, no," Optronix sensed the direction of Perceptor's retrospection. "Starscream arrived, and stumbled across them."

"Worse was the fact that the Decepticon soldier was not entirely displeased to have Red Alert in his arms. I wouldn't know what would be worse for Red Alert...to be at _that_ Decepticon's mercy, or Starscream's?" Perceptor illustrates, elaborating the events further. "Starscream took a microsecond to rip Red Alert from the mech's arms and out of the way before literally ripping the Decepticon's arms off." The scientist took a moment, taking a deep breath through his vents, regaining his composure. "It was awful. The sight of so much energon and fluids from the injured mech sent Red Alert into shock. Several of the Constructicons forced to act as improvised medics and attend to him since the horror of Starscream's brutality proved too much for his logic boards to process. Megatron had to intervene to stop Starscream from bludgeoning the soldier into deactivation with his own severed limbs."

Optronix leaned against the wall, needing the solid strength of its unwavering support. "What senseless displays of rage and aggression." He whispered, "The Decepticons could disintegrate from the dissention and killings among their ranks."

Perceptor could not help but chuckle dully. "If you think that the Decepticons are brutal among other soldiers, you should see how they behave in the Pit."

* * *

Perceptor's dark premonition would prove correct.

Nevertheless, a sliver of light shone brightly a while before Megatron locates Optronix, after finally closing his meeting with Shockwave.

Optronix and Perceptor separated not long ago, the scientist's shoulders stiffening when a sleek blue Seeker and menacing black and purple Seeker approach. Perceptor stuttered a short farewell, stepping away at the same time the Seekers were within arm's length.

"There you are!" The darker one snaps up Perceptor, slinging an arm around the smaller mech's waist, nearly pulling the scientist off his feet. "Need to stick a GPS chip on your aft since you keep running off."

"I just wanted some time alone." Perceptor shook his head quickly, facing the archivist's direction, optics catching sight when Optronix took a step forward to either speak or act in an effort to assist him.

The blue Seeker joined his dark partner, the two's wing blades overlapping. "Come on, Skywarp." He bumped a wing against his brother's, redirecting his attention. "We need to go if we want a good seat."

Skywarp bared silver teeth in a grin. "Yeah..." He shifted to allow the other Seeker to slide an arm around Perceptor's shoulder, the scientist squeaking weakly as he was compressed between the two Decepticons. "Lead the way, Thundercracker."

Optronix could not help but shrink as two pairs of red optics flicker over him, assessing his presence and his proximity with Perceptor. The optics transfer, attention swiftly gone, deems the mech as unimportant and little interest, much to his and Perceptor's shaky relief.

"Perceptor--" He said the name softly, not knowing what to do as the two Seekers continue down the hall, his friend in tow.

"It's okay." Perceptor whispered just outside the range of the Seekers' hearing range, timid voice reassuring Optronix. "I'll see you sometime later."

Optronix stood, unable to prevent from worrying while watching helplessly, his friend rudely carried off, snug between the large mechs who bullied the mech into following their lead. _'How is everything remotely okay?'_ He wondered, not soothed by his friend's quiet promise. _'How are any of us okay when we're afraid to be in the company of our own brothers and sisters?'_

The hallway around him grew much bleaker, hollow and silent aside from the low hum of lights and equipment tucked away in various rooms.

Repeatedly looking over his shoulder in the direction that the three mechs have disappeared and gone, Optronix decides he has no option but to continue his cruising trek. He takes numerous turns and descended several levels, backtracking when he came across a sealed corridor with two soldiers guarding the entryway.

"Not for your optics." One soldier warned the red and blue mech, arms crossed over a large black chest. The soldier's companion rests a clawed hand over a large blaster slung over his shoulder, sharp talons beating a low tune across the weapon's smooth skin. "Turn around and keep going."

Almost a breem later, he was now completely lost. Thankfully, he did not stumble across any armed sentries like before, but the worry for Perceptor and frustration over his imprisonment spiked. He curses lowly, cracking a metal foot into the wall, venting the frustration rattling his compactor.

The loud clang of metal against metal invariably drew the attention of another.

He flinched, catching the sound of running feet, but the familiar voice caused him to spin around, "Optronix!"

"Ariel?" His face expressed his hope and surprise. "Ariel!"

"Optronix!" Ariel's voice box was a mixture of laughter and tears, pink heels clicking as she covers the distance separated between them. Optronix caught her momentum, lifting the femme off her feet. He buried his face into her neck, holding her too tight, but neither have the Spark to complain.

_"Ariel..."_ His voice trembled, overjoyed and Spark aching at holding the familiar form within his arms. "You're okay."

"Yes!" Ariel clings to him, burrowing into the warmth and safety of his larger arms and chassis. "I'm so happy...Optronix, I thought you wouldn't make it out of the city alive..." She sobbed, lip components trembling. "I thought that I'd lost you."

"Shhhh..." Optronix hushed, sweeping his hands up and down her slim back. "It's all right." He soothed. "I'm here."

Ariel rose onto tiptoes, and Optronix gasped helplessly surprised by her boldness as lips met. Ariel cupped his face, optics darkened as she savored the familiar taste.

Optronix's optics fell black, joining her in appreciating their reunion.

They disengage with a soft sigh, optics coming online and meet. Sharing shy grins, the mechs rested their helms together. "I've seen Ratchet and some of the other Autobots." Ariel whispered into the small space between them.

"Perceptor told me that he was severely damaged."

"Yes." Ariel confirmed. "He took a hit while trying to tend to an injured soldier. I wasn't too far away, but I didn't see the actual impact."

"Ariel!" Optronix jerked back, looking at his lover in confusion. "Primus, why were you so close to the battle? You should have evacuated to the nearest shelter!"

"I couldn't." Ariel turned her helm, not meeting his gaze. "I couldn't leave my comrades."

"...What?" His Spark clenched. "What are you saying? You were among the Autobots?" She nodded in admission. "Ariel, you are a civilian. You put yourself in unnecessary danger!"

"I decided to take the risk!" Ariel defended her actions. "I wanted to remain with the other soldiers!"

_'The other soldiers...'_

Those words echoed in his helm.

"You've joined..." Optronix stopped, turning his helm away. Clearing his throat, he mustered a shaky breath. "When were you going to tell me that you've joined the Autobots?"

"I am not a soldier yet. I was stationed to bear the Autobot insignia shortly after my arrival in Faon." Meeting Optronix's disbelieving and hurt face, Ariel tried to muster strength into her conviction. "The Autobots need us to help them fight the Decepticons before their forces swallow Cybertron!" She clutched at his forearms, but he refused to meet the femme's optics. "I don't want to stand by and watch any more cities fall!"

"How can you explain any mechs fighting when most has no experience in combat?" Optronix slid his arms free, turning away from her. "Your proposal would condemn untrained soldiers into an early downfall."

"It's not like that." Ariel cried softly, hands clenching into small fists. "I only want to help Cybertron."

"Then help!" Optronix spun around, optics burning. "Help the civilians, help the medics, help the sparklings find shelter and protection! But don't deem who should and shouldn't fight when most are too afraid and don't know what it is they will face!"

Ariel shrunk under Optronix's raised voice. "I...I am." She pushed forward, reaffirming a grip on his forearms. "And I need your help."

"What?" Optronix pulled back, but she held on. "You want to attempt a coup while deep within the heart of a Decepticon fortress?!"

"There is no other choice!" Ariel insisted. "You've heard of or seen some of the other mechs here! I can't let them stay here at the Decepticons' mercy. The information and experience they possess would be too valuable of an addition to their forces. Not only Prowl and Blaster, but also Ratchet! The Autobots have so few medics remaining, because the Decepticons seized and force them into repairing their wounded soldiers, that we need Ratchet to be returned, and quickly!"

"That's impossible." Optronix resisted, wishing for the femme to listen to logic. "What you're prescribing is impossible. Ratchet and Prowl are too severely injured. You will never be capable of safely moving them. Do you honestly think that the Autobot captives are not being closely monitored? You'll never be able to slip out of the fortress on your own, let alone with any of the others."

"There is a way." Ariel persisted in her efforts to sway him, "I discovered a way out, at a time that there is a switch in the guards. We could make it!"

"Ariel..."

"Please, Optronix. I need you to help me."

"But…how do you expect this to work—"

Ariel doesn't provide him the opportunity to finish his sentence. "No more." She interrupts, looking left and right quickly, scanning the length of the corridor. "Not here. Please, Optronix. Just wait. I'll find you when the time is right, and we'll escape from here." She laid out her plan. "I may be able to get Red Alert and Ratchet away, but I'll need your help."

"This won't work." Optronix insists, shaking his helm in weak resistance. A part of him wanted to help Ariel so badly, but another screamed that her plan would never survive. "There are too many variables to consider."

"Trust me. I need you to trust me." Ariel pulled away, their hands and fingers slipping together until she was out of reach. "I need you with me, Optronix."

Optronix clenched his optics, gaze narrowing as he struggled with himself. "....When you're ready..." He forces out, finally. "...I'll help you. I don't want you to pull this stunt on your own."

Ariel's face broke into a happy relieved smile. Optronix turned away, not wanting to witness the hopeful trusting face that she was placing upon him. "Thank you! Thank you, Optronix! You won't regret this, I promise."

She spun around and darts away, taking off at a run back the way she had come.

Once again, Optronix finds that he is again alone. He waits until her footfalls disappear, and releases a defeated sigh through his vents. His chin drops, beaten down by the weight pressing down upon his shoulders and the pain igniting in his Spark. _'There are so many ways that this attempt could fail. We will pay dearly if it does.'_

He startled at the snap of metal wings above his head. Tilting his face upward, Optronix is surprised to catch sight of a sturdy red and black flying mech, resembling an organic aerial creature. The small mech's features correspond to an organic falcon, or some other bird of prey. Optronix does not possess the knowledge about many organic creatures, and he is unqualified to identify the mech's resembling organic cousin. "Oh! Hello there." He carefully greets the mech peering down at him from high metal rafters, not knowing whether the small mech can comprehend his words...but no matter. Optronix labors to appear less intimidating, wishing not to appear as a threat to his observer peering down at him with a tilt of its slender neck.

The small mech's optics flares bright red, hypnotizing bright. A snap and its wings open, and the mech dropping and sailing effortlessly through the air. With one beat, then two, it reaches the end of the corridor, performing a sharp turn to disappear down an adjacent hallway.

_'I wonder if it lost track of its owner,'_ He wondered, _'I've never seen such a mech. Its creator must be worried if the little one has been gone for too long.'_

Optronix's musings cut short as another, but far more resounding approach of footsteps converging towards his position. He remains where he stands, waiting to see who would be turning the corner.

Not to his surprise, but to the mech's overt dismay, Megatron transverses the blind corner and approaches, "You appear to be making an utmost amount of effort to remain lost." The Decepticon greets, followed by the sharp edges of red optics narrowing when Optronix shrinks back at his arrival.

"It hasn't really worked well." Optronix holds firm to his ground with an extreme amount of willpower, absorbing the familiar menacing sight of Megatron and the black cannon atop his forearm and the silver tank barrel over his shoulder.

"Is that sarcasm that I detect?" Megatron inquired, pushing into Optronix's personal proximal space. Optronix shrank back further until his shoulder blade bars meet the wall. "I'm beginning to think that you don't enjoy my company."

The smaller mech kept his lips components pressed firm for a moment, restraining the few first statements that burst into existence within the confines of his CPU. He does not wish to say anything further that may land him in hot water; he senses that he is already at the end of Megatron's patience. Being obstinate would not help his current position. It would be in his best interest to tread lightly and carefully.

"Not at all, Lord Megatron," He mumbles, for the moment submitting beneath the red optics threatening to burn laser tracks through his helm.

The Decepticon's mood shifts dramatically, appearing greatly pleased, mollified by Optronix's willingness to abide his presence. While Megatron, not remotely fooled by the suddenness of the mech's impulsive compliance, he is willing to extort the opportunity fully. "If that is the case, then I am eager for you to join me." He waves an arm, indicating that Optronix proceeds.

"Where are we going?" Optronix reluctantly joins him, the two walking together at a matched pace, Optronix copying the other's sedate walk.

"Ohhhh..." Megatron's smile possessed the warmth of a sated serpent. "Just to go and view a bit of entertainment."

Optronix's compactor balks. Somehow, he begins to sense that his definition of entertainment, and Megatron's, are entirely different.

He does not feel entirely confident about the events that are about to ensue.

* * *

The Pit sits cold and silent, crouching down like a dark wary beast, within the center of the stadium, on the bottommost level, a blackened optic echoing the depths and blackness of the corridors of Hell. Viewing levels rose over ten stories above the massive arena, mechs filling the platforms up to the ceiling.

The arena could hold almost a hundred gladiator mechs. A raised platform sits in the middle of the arena floor. Optronix suspects that that is how most fighters arrived to participate in the fights, perhaps more fighters joining the Pit's center by leaping from the stadium's rough partitions that would shield onlookers from any stray weapon fire.

Lined with metal walls that rose over a hundred of feet to the first viewing level, the Pit was a monster in size and at first sight. Optronix falters, halting in a dead stop while following Megatron through the open doors, the Decepticon nodding minutely to the standing guards, who bend into a low bow at his presence.

"This way," Megatron summons him forward, and Optronix follows. The Decepticon strides purposely towards a designated platform housing a raised dais, with a steel throne sitting quiet and ominous at the dais's crest. Positioned at the throne's left and right hand, plush, sturdy red chairs lined the edges of the dais, forming a circular perimeter that could seat nearly twenty mechs. This seating level possessed the best viewing area, and was available only to Megatron and his more outstanding lieutenants and officers.

Optronix's head lifts, catching sight of Perceptor sitting between Skywarp and Thundercracker on the throne's right seating arrangement. Perceptor appears extremely uncomfortable, arms tucked close at his sides. The Seekers have no similar restraints, arms thrown over each other's shoulders, ultimately tucking the scientist in tighter. On a slim table in front of the three mechs, a single full glass of high-grade energon sits untouched, while the glasses in the Seekers' hands are almost drained dry.

On the throne's left, Red Alert sits alone, arms wrapped loosely around his waist. He was conspicuously turned partly away from the direction of the Pit, attention focused on a small scuff mark upon the floor. In front of him and on the table, another cup of energon sat untouched.

_'Starscream is also conspicuously absent,'_ Optronix is quick to note. _'From what Perceptor described to me, that sounds highly unusual, especially for the mech to abandon Red Alert for too long.'_

Expecting Megatron to take his place upon the throne, Optronix counted on taking a seat on an available spot on the perimeter. Since there were only the Seekers and Perceptor on one side and Red Alert on the other, there were seats aplenty to choose. Optronix went to the seats on the left, moving to sit beside the lone red mech.

He yelps sharply as a silver arm coiled around his waist, pulling him back to fall nearly into Megatron's lap. To his surprise, the throne provides ample room between both of the mechs, but the Decepticon did not allow Optronix to sit within the free space, instead actually pulling the red and blue mech flush against his side. The arm remains slung around Optronix's waist, even while he wriggles pointedly to try to slip loose.

Megatron props his elbow on the arm of the throne, accepting the large flask of energon from a servant droid holding a effortlessly balanced tray, bowing its head low towards the Decepticon leader when relieved of its burden. "What do we have today?" He asked the two Seekers, after taking a deep swallow of high-grade from his cup.

"Another Autobot," Skywarp runs a fingertip up and down the ridge of Thundercracker's shoulder plate. Perceptor flushes bright red, painting dark facial plates bright as the blue Seeker's fingers answer by sliding to ascend and descend across the scientist's red thigh. _"He wants to be set free."_ Skywarp bared teeth in a sharp snarl, enunciating his words with a cruel hiss.

"You're forcing Autobot prisoners to fight inside the Pit?" Optronix pushed his hands against Megatron's chest, wanting further space. His optics peered up at the silver mech's face, demanding an answer.

Megatron shrugs one shoulder disdainfully. "They are given several choices. One, to remain a prisoner and face the consequences that follow. Two, to revoke their allegiance to the Autobots and serve me. Or three, if neither of the other choices suits them, then leave free and unharmed from this base if they can win a fight in the Pit." He swirled the glowing lavender drink within its prison, chalice gleaming bright by the swimming fluid's whirlpool movement. "I am not responsible for the choices that they make."

"But you're sentencing them to death either way!" Optronix hissed. "Just how many prisoners do you think can stand a chance in a fight after most of them are either wounded or exhausted from the prior battle in Faon?"

"Again, that is their choice. Not mine."

Optronix scowled, refusing to look at the mech as he finds himself tucked back against his side. Megatron is unwilling, or incapable, of accepting the dismal outcome of forcing Autobots to choose between servitude, or deactivation.

A loud metal gong sounds, startling him from his barbed, painful thoughts. The crowd of Decepticons that had taken their seats on all viewing levels roared, making the room quake with their combined voice.

Skywarp howled, while Thundercracker laughs, joining his brother in banshee howls, **"Bring it!"** Red Alert clapped his hands over his antennas to drown out the sensor-numbing answering roar from the crowd.

_**"Bring forward the challenger!"**_ Megatron's voice commands.

A large mech standing guard on the opposite end of the stadium, upon a fortified walkway, bowed in the leader's direction, and twists the lever to open the platform's gates.

The floor panels split wide, spreading to allow a large lift to break the surface of the platform. Once in place, the lift platforms locks, seams invisible as pressure forces geysers containing clotted dust particles to shoot up hissing into the air. A blue and green mech, an Autobot, stood straight, optics unwavering as the crowd howled in fury at the sight of the red insignia stenciled into the mech's chest.

Megatron does not stare down the Autobot from high above the Pit floor, indifferent towards the mech's presence nor the hot glare aimed towards the Decepticon leader, arctic blue optics promising painful deactivation. The Decepticon leader merely swirls the high-grade around in his chalice, pondering the swirling, vibrant drink, "Your weapon?" He demanded.

The Autobot sneered at the Decepticon leader. "You would trust me with a blaster?" The mech asks.

The Decepticon chuckles, mocking his inquest, "Hardly," Smirk twisting his lips, Megatron's sneer is ugly, gloating the weakened Autobot's position, daring, or completely foolish, to maintain an obstinate air. "I wouldn't put it past you to aim the weapon elsewhere."

A flush dances across the Autobot's faceplates, but he responds with nothing.

"Show the Autobot the arsenal he has to choose from." Megatron waved a hand in another Decepticon's direction.

This particular soldier palms a hand flat and slid open a panel upon the wall beside him, revealing an imposing cache of energon blades, energon whips, and large metal swords.

"......" The Autobot's optics flicker over the wide array of weaponry, confidence dimming as he surveyed weapons he wasn't familiar in handling, memory banks possessing no adequate files to offer additional information. "The battle axe…" He said finally.

The Decepticon soldier pulls out the weapon indicated, and tosses it effortlessly down to the fighter. The mech catches the weapon, testing the weight of sharp instrument within one hand. He finds the correct switch hidden in the long handle, causing the axe to snap into life, violet electricity cracking across the axe's sharp edge and surface. "I'm ready." His bravery was poignant, but falls short against the number of mechs eager for his energon to paint the floor, and quench the dust's thirst.

"Who will challenge?" Megatron intones, addressing the Decepticons in the stands above. The audience's breath halts, vents suddenly still, awaiting the challenger who would step forward from their ranks.

_"WHO ELSE!"_

The Decepticons sitting upon the prominent platform did not flinch, but Perceptor, Red Alert, and Optronix jerk aback as Starscream falls from the sky like a mechanical angel of destruction, thrusters buoying his fall as he effortlessly lands in the Pit. The Seeker swoops low in a graceful dip, bowing his head in mockery towards the Autobot, a large saber grasped in cobalt hand. Starscream spins the blade over his head, igniting the crowd, answering their cheers by sparking the blade into life, causing the metal to burn bright red from high pulses of energy.

His Seeker brothers went wild. "Do it!" They shout.

Optronix could not help but curl into Megatron's bulk, horror staining his faceplates as he stares at the Seeker and his garish weapon within the Pit. _'Starscream won't show mercy; he only wants the mech's life fluids. He'll kill him.'_ In an instant Optronix knew the mech's fate, preparing for the fact that the Autobot would not leave the Pit floor alive.

"Anytime you want to start, Starscream." Megaton acknowledges Starscream's enthusiasm to begin the fight quickly, unveiling a grin in smug approval at his soldier's fervor.

_"With pleasure,"_ Starscream purrs in poisonous pleasure, vocal processor hissing in painful delight, enunciating every high-pitched syllable. His rival shivers under the Decepticon's unwavering gaze, red venom promising slow ruin.

The Decepticon flew at the other mech, and the Autobot could barely lift his weapon in time to block the saber rushing towards his throat. Weapons meet, releasing a pulsing blast on impact that shook the floor. The blue and green mech shook visibly, straining with the effort to hold the Decepticon and weapon back. Starscream's dark face splits into an evil grin, composed and showing not an ounce of strain as he shoves the mech off-kilter with an underhanded kick into his solar plexus.

Optronix gasped, wrapping an arm around his waist, copying the Autobot's gesture as the mech grimaced and holds the injured section of metal. He can only block and parry, not allowed the chance to lunge towards the Seeker and try to strike a blow.

Megatron hums thoughtfully, watching the fight with a small amount of interest. "Playing with the mech, I see." Noting the casual way the Seeker danced along the edge of the Autobot's reach and callously toyed at the desperate efforts to beat him back.

Blades mix and clash, and spit electricity, and the Autobot screamed in pain as Starscream's weapon sliced diagonally across his face, cracking open an optic glass pane and severing the stretch of the right face plate.

The crowd screamed in bloodlust, drunk over the sight of warm splashes of energon upon the ground.

"Primus..." Optronix whispered, hunkering down, shielding his optics from the sight of the mech's ruined face weeping tears of energon and oil.

"Hn," Growing bored of the spectacle, Megatron turns away, taking another deep drink from his chalice. "This won't be over for a while." He sighs, forcing himself to remain patient while enjoying the crowds' excitement.

Blinding his sight from the slow carnage occurring in the Pit, Optronix's antennas and audio receptors forced to endure the sounds of battle and rending limbs, and the cheers of the crowd fueled by the slaughter. Starscream's victim cried out repeatedly, obviously falling against the sharp edge of many sharp blows and damaging strikes.

Megatron decides to amuse himself while the Seeker continues his play. Slipping the arm up from Optronix's waist, he cups the mech's chin, tilting his face upwards. Pained, dimmed optics stare up, the archivist trembling minutely from the horrible cries coming from the Pit. "Here…" Megatron brings the cup of energon to Optronix's lips. "This will distract you."

Optronix clamped his mouth shut, shaking his head in stubborn refusal. Megatron _knows_ that the mech does not handle high-grade very well, easy prey for the potent elixir. Optronix refusing to provide the mech alternate entertainment from the slow agonizing torture of the Autobot Pit fighter.

Not budging, the Decepticon is silently insistent, pushing the brim of the cup against Optronix's lip components. When silver lips continue to refuse admission, Megatron widens the stretch of his fingers, and carefully probes the soft dermal metal between Optronix's upper jaw and mandible.

The blunt pressure forces Optronix's lips to part, and the brim breaks the seam, energon seeps steadily into his mouth. His throat clenches, tracheal sensors incited by the burn of high-grade, a cough breaking weakly as the stream of liquid pours down, trickles of violent escaping the corner seams of his mouth, dotting the mech's silver chin.

Megatron pulls the cup away, satisfied, while Optronix continues to cough around the high-grade that burns a path down his throat. He catches the escaping tendrils of energon dripping from the red and blue mech's lips, and peppering the Decepticon's chassis. "You really can't handle high-grade." He notes, carefully clapping the mech's back to ease his deepening coughs.

"You--" He coughs one last time, vents barking loudly, expelling the trace of the high-grade's internal touch and elicited response. "You know that already," Optronix wheezes, head and CPU already woozy from the potency of the drink.

"Try drinking it without me having to feed you like a sparkling." Megatron brings the cup back to his lips.

Already falling under the warmth of the high-grace, and too tired to force such futile struggles against the mech's insistences, their fingers intertwine when Optronix wraps his hand over the wide mouth of the cup, accepting the flow of energon as the flask tilts for easier access. His face pinches with the effort, steadily drinking the intoxicating fluid, a mew of displeasure scrunching the silver skin around the smaller mech's optics. Optronix's throat works regularly in measures to ease the fluid down forced to continue until over half of the cup's contents are finished.

Megatron pulls the chalice away, tilting it back to swallow the last dregs of the high-grade. Once empty he discards the empty flask by negligently tossing the hollowed vessel over his shoulder in the general direction of the servicebots. The Decepticon runs glossa over and up his lips, chasing the remaining flavor. He snaps his fingers, summoning another bot to deliver another flask, downing the second in only four deep swallows.

Optronix finds that he's thankful that no more is proffered, the half a cup's encroaching sway reminiscent to the last night he and Megatron had shared, the previous dockworker placed in a stupor from too much to drink. Like back then, he could barely hold his head up off both shoulders, lolling against the support of Megatron's bulk.

The drink is doing its work. Pushed so far under the influence, CPU and audio receptors drowning beneath a sea of rushing, roaring tide of warmth that the fight down in the Pit was nearly over before he even realized.

Beaten and soaked in energon, two limbs barely attached to his torso by straggling wires, the Autobot lay broken at Starscream's feet. The Seeker presses a cruel foot into the mech's chest, pinning him down even though the act proves unnecessary, his rival too badly weakened to offer struggle.

Starscream turns partway to face the platform and Megatron's throne, face tattooed with steaming energon from the injured mech. The Seeker hefted his saber into the air. "What say you?" He demands, pumping the arm and blade up, oil and lubricants streaming from the blade and down the elevated limb.

Megatron feigns deep thought, the long pause inciting the crowd to begin a roaring chant. _"Till All Are One!"_ Smirking balefully, he accepts the stadium's answer as his own.

"Finish it as you desire, Starscream."

Laughing maniacally, Starscream spins back onto the weakened prey. Bringing the blade over his head, he shouts, hailing the crowd surrounding the Pit. _"Till All Are One!"_

The saber cuts downward, Seeker straddling his victim and forcing the blade through the Autobot's chassis to bury into the Pit floor. Metal blade slashed through vitals, forcing up a wave of pressurized energon that bursts forward from the mech's mouth and pools out from the opposite side underneath his back.

In one instant, Spark snuffed out of existence, the body slackens, limp, optics fading into black and mouth spread open in an expression of horrid shock and excruciating pain.

"And so it ends." Megatron holds Optronix firmly to prevent him from losing his balance and slipping to the floor, gaze befuddled as he tries to watch the floor and convince it to stop moving, "Probably for the best, judging by how you look, Optronix."

The red and blue mech hangs onto him for dear life, fingers digging into his forearms. "Ugh...bastard..." He mumbles. "Drunk...murdering glitch..."

"You wound me." Megatron is aware of the two Seekers beside him chanting along with the crowd, the scientist covering his head, fearing that high-grade would escape from the Decepticons' cups due to the mechs' intensified spirits. "We better take our leave before the party really starts."

"Gentlemechs," Megatron summons the Seekers' attention as he stands, holding the entirety of Optronix's weight since the mech's legs were not cooperating. "Enjoy the revelry, but try not to get too badly fried."

"Us?" Thundercracker affects a look of hurt. Optics blinks repeatedly in a coy gesture of innocence. "You're cruel to assume such a thing, my Lord."

Perceptor squeaks as he's tackled flat upon the wide seats, Skywarp apparently trying to suffocate him with his larger bulk. "Just a bit of fun and play," The dark Seeker promises, Perceptor yelping as the energon does escape and dyes the seats violet. "We'll be up and charged for reconnaissance tomorrow."

"Leaving us so soon, Lord Megatron?" Starscream lifted into the air from the lower level of the Pit with a concentrated firing of thrusters, rising level to the platform and moving to join his wingmates.

"I have more pressing matters that are in need of my attention." Megatron assures, not missing the way Starscream's body was emitting intense bursts of heat, vents working overtime. He tilts his helm, assessing the mech's flushed appearance, red, white, and cobalt form releasing telltale pulses of energy. Apparently, the excitement was spreading below the cone as well. "But do make yourself comfortable and enjoy the party."

_"Ohhh, I will."_ Satisfied by the kill but not remotely sated in body, Starscream takes his proper place beside the reluctant red and white mech who tries to shift away when he is sitting down. Cobalt hands pull Red Alert closer until the cooling splashes of energon upon the Seeker's face reflect in wide blue optics. "I'll suffer through it gracefully." Two fingers catch Red Alert's chin, tilting his face up and allowing Starscream better access as lips and teeth descend, swallowing the white lips whole.

* * *

Time is a broken mirror to Optronix. Carried by the Decepticon leader, both mechs finally arrive at Megatron's private chambers. The larger mech forced to shift Optronix around for a better reach to punch in the access codes to gain entry into the rooms. Doors slide shut directly behind them, automatically locking, barring access except to his closest personnel Shockwave or Soundwave.

Megatron, like any other mech — not near as badly as Optronix, however — was not immune to high-grade. The drinks have left his flesh hypersensitive to the other mech's proximity, and the way Optronix pressed against him far too enticing to ignore. Striding through the expanse of the main chamber, and sometimes short-notice meeting room, he takes them deeper into the rooms that house his private chambers.

Keying in the access code for the separated quarters, admittance guides both mechs into the rich interior compared to the Spartan decor of the main chamber. Optronix perks up, processors awoken by the sound of the doors closing from behind. "Where.." He held his forehead in his palm, fingers sensing the heat of the flesh warmed by the high-grade.

The expansive chamber connected to a private washroom, and a rugged desk holds several stacks of datapads and computer screens. An expensive and massive recharge bed sits towards the back of the room, designed like no other Optronix has ever laid optics on. The only familiar design was the scooped edge of the recharge bed, but the width and height could hold three Megatrons! His eyes widen in surprise at the sight of the reams upon reams of swimming mercury sheets and plush cushions covering the sweep of the recharge bed.

"Microfibers? No, it's Moonshine." He asked in a stunned daze as Megatron sat him down on the edge of the recharge bed. Optronix hesitates to touch the sheets and pillows, awed that he would ever lay optics on such rich goods. "Doesn't it take teracycles to mine, let alone refine the raw crystals?" His fingers stroke through the sheets, silvery fabric slipping between his fingers like water. This kind of luxury and extravagance was not easy to attain, nor remotely inexpensive. Only the highest of society possessed the funds to afford the rich material that compose the sheets, the material making them softer than silk and soothing to metal flesh. The plump headrests would cost Optronix nearly a vorn's worth of pay.

Megatron chuckled at Optronix's expression, tugging the mech towards the center of the recharge bed. "Acquired goods from the elite among the elite," He did not go further into elaborating the fate of the previous owners, since the mechs had not been very forthcoming in allowing tired soldiers to rest in the comfort of their manicured home.

Optronix feels his limbs moved and rearranged around him; the burning tendrils of high-grade whispering distractions that make him find little reason for the moment to argue Megatron's smooth touches.

He does buck sharply when fingers ran up the inside of his thigh, brushing the seam of the compartment shielding his plug. "What...Again?" He asks in disbelief.

Megatron grins, sliding sinuously to fit between red and blue legs. He nipped at Optronix's mouth, coaxing lips open to allow glossa to reacquaint with sweet flesh.

"...I'm not supposed to let you do this again..." Optronix mumbled helplessly, words stolen by a rain of bites and kisses. "I said enough is enough." He insists while his hands scrabble at Megatron's shoulders, first pushing at the silver flesh, but ultimately pulling the mech forward, quivering at the hot press of the other's body overlaying his.

"That's nice." Megatron assures, sliding down Optronix's chassis. Hands proceed, mapping the expanse of the mech's torso.

"...You're supposed to stop now." Optronix bits his lip as Megatron bites right _there_. Eye components roll behind blue optical glass.

"Keep talking, if it makes you feel better." Megatron slides further down until his shoulders split Optronix's thighs. "While I continue on like I should have done inside your apartment unit vorns ago."

While furious by the weakness of his body and the minute efforts of his resistance, Optronix could not deny that he was a slave for the selfish pleasure bestowed upon metal flesh.

It does not help that Megatron was a devil in disguise and seemed to know exactly which seams and dips to explore with glossa, what plates to rake with metal denta, finding sensitive cable networks tucked behind metal thigh plates.

Optronix blamed his thoughts on the high-grade infusing his limbs. _'Well...'_ A sharp whimper as glossa danced across the sealed lips of his port. _'If I have to be his slave, I guess I could bear it for one more night...'_

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Tyrant  
Author: dreamerchaos  
Beta: None  
Warning: Slash, possible gore, and AU. Anyone who knows me, also knows of my rabid fondness for AUs. Mature, and will rate up to MATURE. Be Warned.  
Pairing: MegatronxOptronix. Also non-con pairings  
Disclaimer: Transformers is owned and copyrighted by Hasbro and others beside myself. I'm only playing with the boys and girls.  
I've recently been fascinated by the possibility of Megatron and Optimus having met before Optimus (or Optronix) became a Prime, and how that would have affected the war on Cybertron.  
My basic knowledge about Transformers and terms for certain anatomy stems from a wide array of fanfiction. I approach this fic after reading the IDW graphic novel Megatron: Origin. Any mistakes are mine entirely.

CHAPTER FOUR

_'Oh holy Primus, almighty Unicron, and fragging to the Pit and back...'_

Optronix woke with his helm pounding as if minicons ran amok inside with miniature blasters.

And, ohhhhhh, Primus... Not to mention his port...and his plug....

Everything ached so badly he feared he would never be able to move without cringing in agony. Or crawling around whimpering like a beaten puppy.

He attempts to shift his weight and roll over into a more comfortable position, relieving the aching pulse between both thighs.

_'.........'_

Primus, he really could not move!

Panic seizes CPU, and he somehow possessed the irrational fear that his body has fallen into paralysis. Optronix would have shot up like an online rocket if a firm weight were not currently planting him down, solid warmed metal lying flush against his back.

His optics flares bright, cataloguing the input in front of his screen. Almost a full cycle has passes since sitting and watching the horror of the Pit.

Then Megatron forcing the high-grade down his throat...

...What then? Megatron had carried him to the Decepticon's private rooms, right?

His neural processors struggled to recall the previous night's events beyond the Pit.

_His head thrown back, his mouth muffling most of the cries into the depths of the plumped pillows. Hands rested on the silver mech's hips, slipping up and down with each slow roll._

_Megatron's flesh is taut with tension, cables pushing against the metal cords and plates of his strong neck. Both hands are braced beside Optronix's helm, fingers digging into the berth's padding as he remained firm controlling each prolonged thrust._

"Don't offline on me this time." He growled, warning the red and blue mech as he sensed Optronix's vents working harder to cool his internal systems. "Or you'll never see another overload by the time this nightly cycle is through."

Optronix moans softly, humiliation draining his strength, horrified by the memories coming into focus from the previous cycle, remembering how easily he'd submitted yet again. His aching port and plug throb in unison, as if punishing him by explicitly reminding which exact parts had been mercilessly used and abused.

_'Maybe a trip to the wash racks will help sooth the aches.'_ Optronix hopes. _'...Maybe.'_

The most difficult hurdle, however, covered the expanse of his back and the arm overlaid across his waist. Megatron's weight anchored the mech onto the berth, and during the past joors the moonshine sheets had worked into a frustrating tangle between his lower limbs.

When he attempts to slid forward and underneath the wide silver arm over his waist, Optronix was not surprised, but cursed balefully as the limb constricted, locking him in place.

Who knew? Megatron was an introverted cuddler. Would wonders ever cease?

He muttered a few choice words about Megatron and the noted tendency to wrap Optronix tight within his arms, peevishly wishing to perform a sharp, painful kick up the mech's aft. _That_ would certainly coax the Decepticon into releasing him.

Finally forced to twist at a difficult angle, Optronix works both hands under Megatron's forearm, and pushes the limb up far enough to allow him a quick haphazard escape. He slipped away, freed, and in his haste nearly crashes onto the recharge-side floor.

Losing the warmth and bulk of his recharge partner, Megatron shifts and stretches further across the width of the recharge bed, but metal eyebrow ridges remain slack, and no hint of red burned from the depths of dimmed optics.

Not taking a chance, Optronix kept his back towards the private wash rack, slowly backing away from the recharge berth until he reaches the safety of the separated chamber. Relief hit as he found the door panel, and the metal barrier slid shut silently, barring entry.

The wash racks were grandiose, at best; more space and showerheads than necessary. Unlabeled bottles lined the length of a small metal shelf, cleaning and polishing fluids were his best guess.

He is hesitant, but opens several bottles, olfactory receptors taking in the thick rich emission of various scents. Optronix was not familiar with any of them, and simply wanted to be _clean_ rather than worry about the proper applications and drying periods. A long rinse would suffice for now.

Once turning the proper crank, Optronix released a sigh of relief and bliss as a waterfall of hot water poured from the showerheads. Metal plates clack together loudly as he roughly performs a bodily shake, ensuring that water crept down to reach deeper, hard to approach crevices. Stubborn clumps of grit and dried lubricants soften, and slipped free from deep among metal panels, disappearing within the large swirling whirlpools of water, swallowed by the various drains.

Water pings down the length of his collarbone struts and spine, silver streams smoothing over hidden black cables and sensitive wiring. He initiates his transformation cog, but administered only a small touch, enough to allow for plates to reconfigure and split open wider, allowing the hot water to clean more difficult to reach areas.

It was completely selfish, but deliciously so, to spend nearly a full joor under the hot pouring rain of water and tapping the transformation cog several times to allow the shower to reach deeper. The water does an adequate job of polishing the surface of metal skin, adding light traces and depth into the etchings and crevices marking the ruby and sapphire plates.

Reluctantly, deciding that he had spent enough time and wasted plenty of water, Optronix shuts the showerheads off. Taking a moment before finding the proper commands and button sequence, he turns on the dryers, hot air buffeting his sides, back, and front. Within minutes he is completely dried, skin humming from the pleasant heat remaining from the dryers.

Not entirely enthusiastic, dreading what awaited outside the chamber, Optronix releases the lock upon the wash rack's door. He is completely surprised, however, to find that Megatron remained upon the broad recharge berth, chest still but internal cogs and components working softly as the large mech continued inside the quiet womb of deep recharge.

Like a thief, Optronix slunk around the berth, making his way for the main door. Vents released a gust of gratification when successfully exiting the private chambers, confidently striding into the main rooms.

Before seizing the opportunity to explore the rooms, Optronix started in surprise when the main entry doors chimed, indicating a caller. Helm twisting left and right, towards Megatron's private rooms, and the main entry doors, which release another patient chime, Optronix decides that the Decepticon would not be rising just yet to admit his guest.

Etiquette demanded a response, and Optronix its captive, approaches the doors, pressing the panel to open and allow admittance.

The doors unlock, and Optronix takes a cautionary step back, and then another once catching sight of an unfamiliar mech waiting on the opposite side of the threshold.

The mech is a shoulder and helm taller than Optronix, entire body painted with a rich purple coat of paint. On his left hand — in the place of the actual hand — a formidable blaster was mounted into the wrist and forearm. Instead of a usual mech's face and optics, black hexagonal screen stares back at the smaller startled mech, a respectable sized yellow optic glowing across the monitor's surface. Screen and purple helm balanced upon a strong neck, as the mech performs a small perusal of the room at Optronix's back. The optic flickered back to peer at Optronix. "Megatron, Still In Recharge?"

"A-ah." He stuttered, his composure scattering in front of his optics, processor sensors akimbo within the mech's presence. Just when he had thought that Soundwave was a peculiar yet intimidating mech...This mech fell into a league entirely his own. His presence touched a primeval section of Optronix's logic chips, instincts shivering, warning that this mech was a dangerous predator, Optronix prey that had yet to capture his attention. "Y-Yes. M-Megatron hasn't come out of recharge yet...And I don't know when he will."

Yellow optic dimmed, before flaring bright. "Acknowledged." The mech confirmed. "I Will Wait."

_'Wait? Wait __here__?'_

"I won't disturb you, then." Optronix moved aside to allow the other mech a wider passageway in order to gain access inside the room. The stranger took it as his due, striding past the smaller mech. Optronix stands in place on the mech's previous spot on the other side of the threshold.

"Consort?"

_'Hmm?'_ He suddenly realizes that the stranger is speaking to him. Optronix looked back over his shoulder, startled by the question. "Wha?" He asked eloquently.

"And Where Will You, Consort, Go?" The mech clarified patiently.

_'Consort...'_ Optronix couldn't shake the complete stupefaction caused by that particular designation, shoulders quaking like a dog trying to rattle free an annoying flea. _'Just what I need. That sort of degrading designation!'_

"Um..." Clearing his tracheal cable, and inwardly kicking himself over continual persistence in repeatedly stumbling over his words. "For...for a walk. I'll leave you and Megatron alone to talk."

"Intention Acknowledged." Taking a seat at the round meeting table on the left side of the room, his optic never leaves Optronix as the red and blue archivist/consort made a hasty retreat, sealing the door shut as he took off down the corridor, fleeing the proverbial demons at his heels.

* * *

_'And once again, I have managed through sheer foul luck and too many wrong turns...to get lost within the deepest corridors of this base.'_

If he keeps this trend up, Optronix would not put it past Megatron to snap on a collar and latch a chain together to keep track of the red and blue mech.

Trying to remain optimistic, Optronix has to admit relief that he came across very few Decepticon guards during his campaign to lose all sense of coordination and direction. A wandering mech with no appropriate destination would certainly catch their attention, and Optronix knew the likely outcome: swiftly returned and hastily deposited into Megatron's quarters once the security mechs determine his identity.

Optronix swept around another corner, and again found no signs of any guards. _'This is a bit strange.'_ He wondered, CPU growing increasingly worried by the unusual lack of Decepticons, let alone any mechs, stepping carefully into the connecting corridor. _'There is a distinct lack of guards. Are the sentries being concentrated in other areas? If so, then for what reasons?'_

There were no security camera lens visible, but Optronix would not rely on that guaranteeing the presence, or lack thereof, of any monitoring systems. No sentry drones, either, were attending to the security of the lower levels...

...Strange, and increasingly stranger.

No threat was present, but Optronix felt unusually edgy. He could not shake the feeling that he is missing a very vital piece of information.

_"Optronix!"_ A hushed voice hissed from behind.

Optronix nearly attaches to the ceiling, startling like a feline having its tail tread upon, "Gahh!"

"Optronix!" Louder, voice rising.

"Ariel?" He spun around. Blinking in confusion at the sight of the femme under a limp body and struggling under an equally limp arm. Ariel struggles, barely capable of supporting a familiar red and white mech sporting an uncountable number of metal plates and staples keeping dermal skin sealed together, but dots of diluted energon seeped from the seams of the medical compresses. "Ratchet?!" Optronix turned optics towards the femme. "Ariel! He is too badly injured! What are you thinking? It isn't safe that he's moving around!"

"I can't leave him." Ariel refused to concede, struggling to prevent Ratchet from slipping off her shoulder. "Frag!" She curses sharply. "I wanted to try and get Blaster and Red Alert as well, hoping that at least one of them could help me carry him to safety, but I can't find either of them!"

He released a deep huff of frustration, irritated by Ariel's lack of planning and thought into her actions, causing the Autobot medic to pay further for her disregard. "Just—" Optronix stepped forward, not listening to her sputters of indignation. "Just give him to me, Ariel!" He snaps, finally past the threshold of patience that he possessed. "I'll carry him. There's too much height and weight difference between you; the only thing you're doing is aggravating his injuries."

"I have to get him out of here." She is persistent, while helping Optronix shift Ratchet's weight against his side.

"What about everyone else?" Optronix demands, while frantically wrapping an arm around Ratchet's waist. The medic groaned weakly, eyebrows furrowing in pain, moaning as his wounds are aggravated further. "There are others here...did you plan to simply leave them?"

"I don't have a choice!" Ariel bites back impatiently. "I can't save everyone, Optronix. I had to choose whom I could save. Ratchet is a valuable medic, and I wish I had been able to find Blaster and Red Alert. A communications expert and security director would be incredible accessories to the Autobot forces."

"This isn't about values and numbers, Ariel!" Optronix would have reared back in anger, if not currently fearing what the motion would do to worsen Ratchet's injuries. "These are lives that you're dismissing!"

_"This is a war, Optronix."_ She refused to back down, even for her lover, even under the weight of his abhorrence and animosity. "Sacrifices must be made."

"If you truly believe that," Optronix stares her down, blue optics no longer the mech's she knew, a cold-hearted stranger meeting her. "Then you are no better than a Decepticon."

His condemnation leaves Ariel noticeably rattled, her Spark freezing at his frigid condemnation. "What--What did you say?" She stutters, in disbelief at what he has just said.

"You preach of the Autobots as if they stand above the rest, protecting the weak and guarding their compatriots." Optronix growled, "Like the Autobots are the saviors, mystical beings falling from the heavens to save our city. When in fact, like any organized army, the only thing in front of your optics is victory, no matter how many need to be sacrificed for one single petty slap to the Decepticons' faces."

"No..." Ariel shook her helm, refusing to believe. "That's not true..."

"Maybe," Optronix murmurs beneath his intake. "Maybe I'm wrong." He admits. "After all, from what I've witnessed, the Decepticons aren't so cruel that they'll lead mechs with blatant false hopes simply to abandon them like obsolete parts. Instead they hand down judgment and yet give captives the explicit choice of submission or a fight in the Pit."

"The Decepticons would sentence them to death..." Ariel argues softly.

"But Decepticons don't lie, smiling assuredly while holding a sharp blade behind their back. Decepticons are bluntly, brutally honest. There is no falsification with their opponents sentenced to death. It is their job, their duty to punish and execute. They don't allude to anything else otherwise."

"Hmm." Processor sensors curl in terror, Optronix freezes, recognizing the distinct low mechanical voice. "Correct. However, On Some Occasions..."

Appearing like a phantom behind Ariel, the femme too startled to move or make any noticeable sounds of fright, the purple mech shoved the blaster of his left hand against the smooth temple of the smaller pink mech's helm.

"Sometimes Decepticons Aren't Too Opposed To Unnecessary Violence." The mech intones.

* * *

"No, wait." Optronix pleads free hand waving in surrender. He holds Ratchet to his side, protecting the injured medic by turning to shield his fragile form. "Don't fire!"

A fine tremble wracks Ariel, optics wide as the barrel of the blaster pushes against her helm. "Op-Optronix..."

"Hush, Ariel." Optronix cuts her off. "Do not move or make a sound."

She bites her lip, struggling to acquiesce to his command and not induce the Decepticon to respond to her adverse movement and automatically fire.

"Ariel..." Another voice rises from behind him.

Optronix looks over his shoulder, optics meeting the familiar face of red mech from Soundwave's labs. Blaster.

Soundwave stood at the mech's shoulder, hand resting on the red one's collarbone strut. "Blaster Intercepted Femme's Beacon, Signaling Autobots For Immediate Evac. Informed Me Of Femme's Movement. And I Informed Shockwave Of Your Confiscation Of His Medic."

_'So the puzzle pieces fall into place.'_ Optronix looks back towards the mech holding Ariel hostage. _'__**He**__ is Shockwave. Another highly dangerous mech serving Megatron.'_

"..how could you.." Ariel's face reflects her hurt at Blaster's betrayal. The red mech flinches under the femme's disbelief and disappointed optics.

Blaster's chin drops to his chest. "I'm so sorry..." He whispers, struggling to form the correct words to explain. "I can't...I have no choice..."

"Blaster: Under My Command. Under Lord Megatron's Command." Soundwave taps the center of the mech's chest, drawing attention to the faint Decepticon insignia burned into the cassette cover. "Reformatted To Follow His Superiors. And To Serve As My Right Hand."

"Reformatted in order to shackle him to you, is more like it!" Ariel spat. "You forced him into playing the role of your slave."

"Always Aware Of His Skills And Future Potential." Soundwave was unfazed by the venom in her voice, but a little intrigued by her incredulity. "Why Wouldn't I Seize The Opportunity To Acquire?"

"Enough." Shockwave intercepts before Ariel launches her rant further. He pushes between her shoulder blades, forcing her to circle around his bulk. "Megatron Awaits. Demands To Know Severity Of The Femme's Insurrection."

"To Megatron's Private Chambers, Then?" Soundwave asks.

"Incorrect." Shockwave denies. "To The Court."

Shockwave prods Ariel to continue moving when she automatically halts, balking at being forced to hold audience before the Decepticon leader. "If You Try To Escape," The mech warns coldly, driving the cold barrel of the blaster into the small of her back, "You Will Not Make It Four Meters."

Optronix had sensed that their luck would fail, CPU beginning preparations for this possible outcome. Now that it was happening, during this exact moment in time, the fear and dread left the dry taste of ash in his mouth.

"Consort." He jerked around, grip remaining firm around Ratchet when Soundwave steps forward to stand on the injured mech's opposite side. Soundwave's red visor met nervous blue optics. "You Will Also Have To Answer For Your Role."

_'Was there any doubt of that?'_ He wonders, offering no resistance, not making any inclination to disprove his part in Ariel's plan for escape. Blaster moves to Optronix's other flank, following Soundwave's lead as the Decepticons begin their escort to their destination to await hearing and judgment. _'This would explain why there was a lack of security. Some time ago, they learned of Ariel's intent. Rather than strike immediately, they wished to see and analysis the severity of her insurrection. All they had to do was provide her the opportunity, sit back, and wait.'_

"It's okay to be afraid." Blaster whispers and Optronix turns his head minutely towards him, patiently awaiting the mech to continue. "Megatron...you...you're his...Consort. He may not...he may not punish you...maybe...um..." The mech could not connect his words, unable to offer further comfort.

"It's okay." Optronix finds himself taking on the role of consoling the communications expert, "I knew what outcomes I could face if we were caught in the act."

Beyond that certainty and acceptance, Optronix feels fear seize his Spark, coating internal components in sharp shards of ice.

_'However, Megatron will probably make certain that I regret being given Spark.'_ Regardless of his dubious relationship with the Decepticon leader, simply being the mech's interfacing partner would not exempt him from Megatron's tender mercy.

As Megatron has portrayed before time and again during the battles waged within the fortresses of Cybertron's vast metropolises, mercy was not his forte, seemingly nowhere instituted into his formatting, and nor would he spare any for mechs who dare to initiate an act of betrayal.

* * *

The Court was the designated room for the trials of mechs who have fallen beneath Megatron's disfavor. Judgment and execution assigned in this room.

Broad ceiling rise high above, roof dotted with bright ceiling lights. The chamber, large and oval, with no seats available except for the replica of Megatron's throne, from the viewing platform over the Pit, sitting on a raised dais.

Megatron sits upon the solitary seat, optics burning, but says nothing while the entourage escorts Optronix and Ariel into the chamber. Right elbow upon the arm of the throne, chin and face supported as he stares down at the mechs' arrival. The black barrel of the large gun on his arm shines under the lights, glossed paint containing the dangerous destructive firepower of the frightening weaponry.

Optronix is quick to sooth the small sounds of pain Ratchet releases when the red and blue mech's shoulders flinch at the sound of the large metal doors slamming shut behind them, movement unsettling the injured medic. Warm energon slips beneath the palm of his hand and arm stretched around Ratchet's waist, seeping from a metal plate ripped free from its welding.

"Give Him To Me." Shockwave is suddenly there, stepping in front of him, indicating with a motion of his right arm for Optronix to follow his command.

Optronix knew that he could − **would not** − offer no further resistance; Ratchet was in desperate need of repairs, more than he could ever hope to provide. "His wound is bleeding again." It wasn't entirely necessary to inform the mech as he slid Ratchet into Shockwave's possession, but Optronix's worry compels him.

"Shockwave," Megatron summons the mech's attention, not blind to the fresh stains of energon dotting the floor, seeping from the Autobot's wounds. "Will your medic survive?" He inquires.

Shockwave's head nods, as he bowed down to slip Ratchet's arm over his shoulders. "Confirmed. Recovery Is Delayed Further, However, By Femme's Handling. I Will Need More Time Before He Is Adequately Repaired."

Megatron nods in satisfaction and Shockwave takes it as indication for his leave. He exits the Court, carrying his injured burden, role already played out in locating and retrieving the insurgents inside the Decepticon base.

Optronix wiped ineffectively at the energon drying along his side from Ratchet's reopened wounds. His hand trembles violently, upset stirring his compactor from the amount of fluids that the medic had bled, indicating his dire state. Optronix silently prays that his and Ariel's roles would not insure that Ratchet would soon join Primus himself. _'Please forgive me, Ratchet.'_ Optronix begs. _'Instead of helping, I only caused you more agony.'_

Both he and Ariel instinctively look up when the main doors suddenly slid open, assuming, for some unapparent reason, that it was Shockwave returning for some reason.

Starscream bulldozes into the Court, optics automatically locking on, narrowing down on the pink and white femme. _"You..."_ He snarls in fury.

"Ahh. Starscream," Megatron's greeting is aloof, not appearing affected by the Seeker's raised ire. "No problems during your reconnaissance mission, I see." He says, seamlessly switching the topic regardless of the mech's intense focus upon the slim femme.

Blaster, realizing he was the only thing between the Seeker and unobstructed access further into the interior of the Court's chamber, immediately hustles out of his way, retreating to safety, sensing the impending malevolence preparing to crash down upon them.

Ariel takes a step back, startled by the Seeker's murderous focus.

_"Little bitch!"_ Starscream roared, leaping at the femme, hands searching for a vulnerable throat.

"NO!" Soundwave is far swifter, catching him by the shoulders, preventing the mech from causing permanent damage to the prisoner. "They Still Await Lord Megatron's Judgment." The mech struggles to hold Starscream back and ceasing the femme's functions.

"Frag that!" Starscream spits, fighting mad. He tries to close the distance between him and the femme bot, fingers dragging wildly at the air separating them. "You knew what she was attempting to do! She got her filthy hands on Shockwave's pet, and I return and learn that she had her optics sighted on Red Alert, not to mention your mech as well!"

"Efforts Were Useless At Best." Soundwave counters calmly during his struggles to contain the Seeker. "Once Blaster Confirmed The Distress Beacon, Shockwave Informed Lord Megatron, And Agreed That Red Alert Would Remain Under Starscream's Wingmates' Guard, Along With The Mech, Perceptor." Soundwave informs, seeking to sooth the mech's deadly raised ire. Starscream's exertions calm, but only slightly. Soundwave quickens to continue his explanation, seizing the opportunity before Starscream's infamous temper corrupts his logic boards. "Blaster Was Unaffected And Not Swayed By The Femme's Influence Since He Was Constantly In My Presence. Ratchet Was The Only Mech Seized During Shockwave's Absence While Meeting With Lord Megatron."

Starscream halts his resistance, shortly appeased by Soundwave's report. "...Fine." He concedes, although his face remained sullen due to the other Decepticon's interception that prevented him from placing harm onto the femme's person.

"Are you ready to collect yourself?" Megatron demands, watching the struggles, while calmly waiting for the Seeker to regain his wits. When Starscream nods his consent, the Decepticon leader continues, "Now, then. I have heard from Shockwave and Soundwave about the recent events that have transpired. What I want to know, now, however, is how far each of these mech's roles extends."

Optronix, standing a bit away and to the side from Ariel, peered up in silent inquest towards the Decepticon leader, but the mech's optics and pinched facial components reveals nothing.

"Soundwave." The mech steps forward at Megatron's summons.

"Sir?"

"Do it."

"Acknowledged." Soundwave approaches Ariel, and before the femme can snap at the mech or step away, the Decepticon grasps the sides of her helm between his hands.

Ariel starts, body snapping as if an electric current ran up from the floor, up her limbs, to stutter and disassemble processor and mainframe memory banks. She gasps weakly, knee joints slackening, but remained within the mech's clutches, blue hands the only prevention keeping her from spilling onto the ground.

_'Of course.'_ Optronix realizes. _'Soundwave is a telepath. He can easily sift through her memory banks, extracting all necessary files and memory logs as he sees fit.'_

Far more quickly than Optronix would have anticipated, Soundwave suddenly releases the femme, and this time she does collapse onto the floor into a tangled heap. Her optics are tightly shuttered, frame wracked by long sweeping shivers. The telepath used little finesse or coaxing while drifting through her memory banks, deciding not to waste the effort on the slim insurgent.

Blaster shudders in sympathy, possessing experience as a frequent recipient under Soundwave's hands when he had once been far more resistant towards the mech's attentions, refusing to bow to the Decepticon's cold demands to dissolve his ties with the Autobots and accept the Decepticon insignia.

"As Confirmed." Soundwave rubs his hands together, wiping away any residue from contact with the femme. He allows a brief examination over the femme's trembling form, ascertaining that she was still intact. "Femme Serves The Autobots, While Not Yet Among Their Ranks. Seeked To Acquire And Return Specialized Officers To the Autobot Forces In Hopes Of Ensuring Victory In Future Campaign In Iacon."

"I see." Megatron raised his chin, nodding in Optronix's direction. "Continue."

Optronix expected that his turn would follow. He cannot help but want to retreat but forces his body to stand tall and remain strong.

As Soundwave's hands stretch forward, sliding over the blue paint of his helm, Optronix wishes that his trembling Spark could match the solidity and fortitude of the willpower keeping him in place.

Soundwave's presence slips through the corridors of his main frame, tapping along the edges of his CPU. Oil treading upon water, the Decepticon's presence swiftly mapped the looping maze of corridors, swiftly reading the overlay of memory banks and various files.

A slap of frigid water slaps into his facial plates, rivulets showering down his insides. He hunches over, hands rising to overlap the Decepticon's fingers, helplessly attempting to pry the grip upon his helm free.

"A Bit Stronger Than The Femme." Soundwave notes aloud. "He Is Forcing Me To Extend More Effort."

"I want that information, Soundwave," Megatron stands, moving down, taking the steps of the dais. "Regardless of how his fortitude compares to the femme." He halts his approach at the bottom of the short flight of stairs.

"As You Wish." Soundwave's hands flex minutely beneath Optronix's.

Invisible talons snap down, seizing his processors. A low painful moan escapes, blue optics flicker with static. A low roar, an ocean pushing waves to crash against the shore of his mainframe.

Claws flex, and begin twisting.

His legs give out, knees hitting the floor. He screams, certain that energon is boiling from his optics and spilling from the vessel of his mouth. The pain is beyond anything he has ever experienced, rending his flesh down to metal struts and frame. He could cease to exist this very moment, and it would be a blessing from Primus.

Sharp nails clack along the row of files, prodding the necessary images and conversations shared and exchanged between his close friends. Perceptor's face swims in front of blue optics, before fading as silently and as quickly as it had arose.

"Momentary Contact With Mech: Perceptor." Knelt down, propping the red and blue mech up to pause imminent collapse, Soundwave interprets the information he is receiving. "Shared Events In Faon, And Roles While Inside This Base. Nothing Connected To Autobots, Besides Status Of Prisoners."

The memory file was sealed shut once more, and the sharp fingers continued in search of more information.

"No more.." Optronix pleads, but the presence punches deeper. Text runs across optical screens, and warning bars flare, detecting Soundwave's encroachment and identifying that the invader was pushing further through his processor.

Another memory files snaps open, and Ariel's face melts up from the darkness.

"Ariel." Soundwave turns his helm, the visor shortly landing upon the curled femme. "The Femme Insurgent."

He turns away, redirecting focus back onto Optronix, returning to his scans, "Accessing Further Information."

An electrical cloud swamps his mainframe. Body quivering, wrapped tight in a seizure, Optronix's optic screens roll between sapphire and ebony, reacting towards the internal chaos as safety protocols and firewalls collapse under Soundwave's physical fingertips and incorporeal hands sifting through the sea of files.

The loud roar of the ocean of static fills his audio receptors. Emergency shut down engaged, remaining systems locking shut around the intruder.

In the distance, he could make out voices swimming beyond his peripheral hearing.

Ariel was calling for him, screaming for Optronix to online his optics, begging him to hold on and keep fighting.

He wished that he possessed any remaining fortitude to do just that.

Soundwave's voice overlapped the femme's, spilling over the last few systems finishing lockdown.

"Data Acquired."

As rapidly as his systems were deteriorating around the enemy, engaging emergency shut down procedures and locking codes, everything suddenly snapping back into focus, optic screen wiped clean. He sensed the world tilting, but all he was able to make out was a void of darkness that held no floor or ceiling.

* * *

Optics, reluctantly, pushed by a great force of endurance, manage to return online. Optronix stares up at the ceiling lights, dully noting the penetrating burn of the fluorescent brightness. Vents work hard, coaxing coolants to flood overheated motor and inner components.

Soundwave is leaning over him, speaking directly to Megatron while he checks over Optronix's status, ascertaining the extent of the mech's fatigue. Optronix catches every third word or so, but from what he can deduce Soundwave is reporting that Ariel was the main conspirator, leading Optronix into her mad scheme for escape with small hopes and their relationship as close associates. _'No...I'm not innocent.'_ He tries to disagree with the telepath's assessment of Optronix's memory banks, but his glossa won't cooperate. _'I played an equal role to hers. Don't punish her for both of our roles.'_

Nothing in his body was cooperating. Functions prove haywire at best or none-existent at worst. Optronix's body is lethargic...Heavy. He felt like he had been beaten with a large metal beam, and half-anticipated to find deep cracks and scuffs upon his metal skin.

Blue hand presses to his cheek, using touch to determine if any increase in temperature was occurring at a dangerous level, "He Is Weakened, But Intact," Soundwave informed his leader.

"It was expected." Megatron is a distant observer, watching Optronix struggle to prevent cold rippling shudders to control his frame, reacting to the shock of Soundwave's invasion. The red and blue mech does not refuse the telepath's assistance in pulling him up into a more comfortable sitting position, although he wobbles noticeably.

Blaster is immediately beside the mech, murmuring words of encouragement and praise as Optronix slowly begins to command his body to cease its trembling, inner auditory receptors working into their proper configuration to prevent stimulation similar to seasickness. Center of gravity returned and the room no longer spinning.

Ariel rose to her feet like a drunkard, swaying dramatically towards the left before catching her unbalanced weight. "Optronix?" She approaches, desperate to check that the mech did not suffer permanent damage from the telepath's assault.

She does not make it far.

Megatron's right arm swings around, black rim of the cannon barrel cracking against Ariel's face.

Optronix's cry of surprise matches the femme, but the pain is entirely her possession. One optic shatters when met with the brutal impact, a black groove marring one side of her face, crushing the cheek plate and metal bone.

Ariel falls to both knees before Megatron, bowed over hands clutching at the crushed side of her face. "Conspiring against me; seeking to flee from this base, while severing prisoners from their bonds. Instigating rebellion among mechs taken as concessions during war, and leading my Consort to assist in a break for freedom."

"Have I missed anything?" He asks, metal foot bumping against her knee. "Well?" He demands an answer. The black barrel of the cannon rises above the femme, a large scythe preparing to strike downwards.

Shards of optical glass sprinkle the ground, Ariel's fingers threaded with clear lubricants and glowing energon streams. The other intact optic glares back at the Decepticon leader, shoulders rigid in making ready for another cruel blow.

"Silence noted." Megatron lowers his right arm, and Ariel's shoulders relax. "It provides enough of an answer."

Without warning, the same metal boot shoots forward, burying into Ariel's metal midsection. The force lifts the slim body, and sends her helplessly flying backwards.

The farthest wall halts her helm and back; she cries out in pain, arms curling weakly around the injured waist, reacting too late to the blow.

"No!" Blaster begs him to stay down and away, but Optronix sways onto his feet, not too far from Megatron as the mech moves closer to add another blow. "Megatron, please stop!" Optronix covers the distance separating them, in desperation wrapping his arms around the Decepticon's left.

"She can't stand up and fight against you!" Optronix holds on tight and Megatron pauses, for the moment. "Why continue this brutality when she is unable to properly face you?"

The Decepticon sneers down at him, fangs reflecting in upturned optics. "You expect any different when I find an terrorist within my base? _Within my domicile?_" He chides the smaller mech's naiveté.

"She is one single, lonely femme." Optronix is desperate to come up with enough to stall Megatron's wrath. Ariel makes a small sound of anger at Optronix's words, but he is willing to say and do anything to prevent her from falling further under the Decepticon's hands. "Why allow this puny, insignificant being to gain the better of you by inciting such intense reactions?"

Megatron, far from persuaded, but his pause gives Optronix encouragement.

"Why exterminate her?" Optronix asks, beseeching Megatron's to wait and think before his next action. "It would be a waste. Instead, make her an example. Show everyone that you do not allow terrorists to be ignored, and they are at your mercy. You rule this planet with an iron fist, and could squeeze at any time and suffocate them until their last intake."

He was working in favor with Megatron's ego, and the soothing tones appeared effective. The Decepticon's chest swelled, shoulders rising taller as he responded to Optronix reverent speech about the mech's strength and authority.

"She is damaged, and will never forget the result of her actions. Do not deactivate or waste your precious time attending to her punishment. Instead, tuck her away, where no one may find her. But keep her alive, so that no one will be able to ignore the stories about the terrorist who dared to stand before the leader of the Decepticons." Optronix works quickly, throwing out any excuse or reasoning which may possible save Ariel.

Megatron makes a undertone sound of consideration, contemplating, optics raking the femme's injured frame, returning to stare down at the red and blue mech reasoning fervently for her survival.

Starscream's face twists in disgust, and disappointment, eagerly watching while the femme had her aft personally handed down by Megatron. It would appear that she would manage to snake her way out of this one.

Blaster looked torn between horror at Optronix's desperate words to barter for Ariel's life, but elated that the mech's voice held some power over the Decepticon. Perhaps it would be enough.

Soundwave, for his part, decides that one last bit of information would need to be revealed before Megatron made his final decision. "A Moment, Lord Megatron?"

"Yes, what is it?" Megatron is unwilling to shift his focus, but an inquiry from the Decepticon telepath has never failed to be of importance.

"Consort and Femme's Relationship Is Deeper Than First Conceptualized."

When Optronix flinches noticeably against the length of his arm, Megatron scowls, conceiving a relationship between the mech's unintentional gesture and mention of the Autobot sympathizer, red optics narrowing, burning down upon the femme. "Well?" The leader snaps.

Soundwave raised a hand, pressing down upon the release switch upon his collarbone strut. "Laserbeak." He summoned.

The action was quick, and once the cassette casing opens, it remains that way long enough for its inhabitant to escape, before slamming and locking tightly shut. A cassette shoots out instantly when the compartment opens, and Optronix optics widen when the red and black aviated mech unfolded from its alt form. Performing a sharp somersault, the small mech looped upwards to land upon Soundwave's other shoulder, red optics glaring balefully at the room surrounding him.

"Recording 2719." Soundwave commands, directing the small mech to proceed.

Laserbeak's red optics shone hot, answering his master's command. A loud click, and red beams flared from its optics, converging and forming a bright red live 3D image.

Optronix stared back at his red twin cast in the laser painted image, reflection frozen in front of the telepath.

"Initiate Recording."

Another sharp click and his twin began to move in a scripted fashion from the previous cycle. Optronix's twin turned sharply, looking over his shoulder as another red image, a smaller, slimmer mech, quickly approached his position.

_'Oh no, oh no, oh no...'_

He sensed where this episode headed, but knew there was no way around it. Facing it head on, a pedestrian watching the runaway truck fill his range of vision.

Ariel's red twin collided with Optronix's, throwing her arms around the mech's shoulders and neck.

A low, trembling shudder rocks Megatron's frame. The silver chest rattled with a slow growing growl, low pulse rising with every astrosecond.

When Ariel's figure rose up onto the tips of her feet to connect their mouths, Megatron spun away from the image with an almighty roar that shook the rafters. Starscream stumbles backwards under the force of the titanic howl of fury, nearly upending onto his aft.

Soundwave calmly orders the recording shut off, the message successfully relayed. Laserbeak switches into his alt. mode, and slides into the safe confines of his master's cassette casing, his role effectively performed and done.

_"You..."_

Optronix scrabbles at the black fingers and palm suddenly encasing his throat, esophageal tube whining beneath the brutal pressure. "M-Meg—" Unable to choke the mech's name.

"This is why you are putting forth such vehement efforts of protection." Megatron snarls, shaking the smaller mech roughly, so hard his head bobs back and forth upon a tautly stretched neck. "Primus help that anything should happen to your precious _lover_." The Decepticon sneers at the last word, fury pouring red flames from his optics, tattoos dragging sharp burning red fangs down his cheeks.

Megatron whips around, snapping Starscream to attention. "Starscream!"

The Seeker snaps straight, saluting his leader. "Sir?!"

"Since our little terrorist has had so much energy to waste on her useless endeavors..." Megatron turns cold optics towards the wounded femme. "Perhaps we can help exhaust her feverish attempts of resistance by allowing her to distract our young Decepticon ground troopers."

Starscream's face fell in shock, before pulling wide in a grin of delight, widening when catching Ariel's small stutter of surprise. "What do you have in mind, Lord Megatron?" He asks eagerly.

"The soldiers who were at the front of the line during the Faon invasion," Megatron supplies, "Give the femme to them. Instruct them that she is to provide entertainment, as a reward for their labor during the previous campaign."

_"With pleasure, my Lord,"_ Starscream bows deep and then is spinning around and approaching Ariel as she struggles to rise to her feet. "Get up, worm! You heard your Lord. On your pedes! The soldiers await!"

"No!" Ariel is too weak to produce notable struggle, but she beats at Starscream's chest in an attempt to keep him at bay.

"No!" Optronix gasps, air stolen by his exclamation. Fingers dig at the seams between silver plates, beseeching the mech to reconsider. "Meg-Megatron..." Wheezing past the tightened grip.

_'Ariel!!'_ He cries out soundlessly as the femme is drug away heels slipping across the floor as Starscream pulls her by the back of her neck. "Optronix!" Her screams cut short as the doors fall back into place, slamming shut.

"Soundwave!" Megatron barks.

"Sir?"

"Your suggestion from long ago?" Soundwave nods in affirmation, in clear understanding. "Bring the proper tool to my quarters at once."

"As You Wish." Soundwave motions for Blaster to follow, the red mech jumping to his feet, looking torn about leaving Optronix, but is ultimately helpless and finally follows the telepath from the Court's chambers.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Tyrant  
Author: dreamerchaos  
Beta: None  
Warning: Slash, possible gore, and AU. Anyone who knows me, also knows of my rabid fondness for AUs. Mature, and will rate up to MATURE. Be Warned.  
Pairing: MegatronxOptronix. Also non-con pairings  
Disclaimer: Transformers is owned and copyrighted by Hasbro and others beside myself. I'm only playing with the boys and girls.  
I've recently been fascinated by the possibility of Megatron and Optimus having met before Optimus (or Optronix) became a Prime, and how that would have affected the war on Cybertron.  
My basic knowledge about Transformers and terms for certain anatomy stems from a wide array of fanfiction. I approach this fic after reading the IDW graphic novel Megatron: Origin. Any mistakes are mine entirely.

CHAPTER FIVE

Optronix's optic screen surface is rolling with waves of staticy silt, vents suffering from the pressure around his throat, and the lack of intake from primary regulatory systems. Not heeding the mech's silent desperate pleas for release, Megatron literally drags Optronix by his throat from the room, barely allowing him time to keep one foot upon the ground.

Guards stationed on the levels either disregard the sight of their leader dragging his ailing companion, or stare after the two mechs in bewilderment. Several lifts are necessary before they arrive on the proper level, and Optronix dimly recognizes where they are before Megatron is punching in the passcode, throwing the mech inside as soon as the doors slide open.

Optronix hits the floor, gulping in deep drafts of air through aching vents. His hand flexes over the strained cables and neck musculature, swallowing several times to lessen the ache.

There is not enough time to regain his wit before a hand grasps the back of his neck, forcing him into a standing position. "Did you really expect that I wouldn't find out sooner or later?" Optronix is pulled backwards to be thrown down to sit in one of the chairs. He leans away as Megatron looms down, arms bracketed upon the headrest on either side of the smaller mech. "How long did you anticipate that you could maintain this little charade?" Megatron snarls.

"I just wanted her safe and unharmed." He offers, in a feeble defense.

"From the image, it appears that there was a bit more want than her safety."

Optronix rocks back at the insinuation. "I already told you, Ariel and I was never intimate—"

A hand grasps his mandible, squeezing and cutting him off—

_"I don't want to hear that femme's name!"_ Megatron trembles with the intensity of his fury. **"EVER!"** He roars.

The Decepticon's fingers threaten to indent into his facial plates. Optronix remains frozen, terrified that any small movement would tear open the skin. Mech faces contain highly sensitized neural sensors and tiny energon conduits that would make facial wounds extremely painful and cumbersome to deal with.

The door chimes signal a guest. "Enter!" Megatron barks.

Soundwave possessed the code to make Megatron's command possible. Unfazed by the scene of his superior pinning Optronix down within his seat, the telepath moved over towards the pair, hands carefully holding a short pewter staff, the length slim and cylinder while the end was square and flat. "I Have What Is Necessary, Lord Megatron."

"Finally," Megatron's hand releases, slamming into the center of Optronix's chest, keeping him pinned. "No time like the present."

Optronix is wary, dubiously watching both Soundwave and the unfamiliar instrument.

Soundwave waved the instrument over the surface of Optronix's torso, focused and waiting for some signal or indication to move on to the next step...Which, Optronix felt, would not be pleasant.

Waving the metal instrument over Optronix's collarbone struts and shoulders derived results that are more positive. The instrument beeped, causing Soundwave to pause his ministrations. Following the steady trills of the metal instrument, the telepath motioned the staff over the smooth surface plating of Optronix's shoulder fronts. "It Appears That The Designated Areas Are Here." He taps once on Optronix's left shoulder front. "And Here." Repeating the action on Optronix's right.

"Proceed, then." Megatron's hand applies further pressure, causing Optronix to grunt in discomfort, shoved deeper into his seat.

Soundwave slides his thumb up the length of the metal rod, and the instrument emits a steady rising hum...Powering up.

On the square end section, the flat surface's temperature spiked. Curls of steam rose from the heating metal, purple energy highlighting the familiar Decepticon insignia.

Not just any instrument, then − It was a branding iron.

Optronix shot out of his seat — or tried, at best — While Megatron forcefully shoved him back down. He wraps his hands around the mech's wrists, struggling to break loose and retreat away from the scalding branding tool. "No!" Optronix buckles forward, but his labor gets him nowhere still.

"Remain Still." Soundwave cautions. "If You Move Too Much And Ruin The Insignia, We Will Have To Repair The Damage And Start Over."

_'Are you out of your fragging mind?'_ He wants to demand in complete stupefaction, _'Do you honestly think telling me to hold perfectly still, while you're holding a branding iron, is going to instill complete confidence?'_

Optronix is quick to realize that resistance is now impossible, and his struggles will only make the situation worse. As hard as it is to do, he rolls his shoulders back, putting every ounce of willpower into waiting in place.

Once Optronix fell still, Soundwave lowered the branding iron, tilting until the correct angle achieved. Holding the position for one moment to make certain that Optronix would not move, Soundwave then drove the hot iron into the right shoulder front.

Red metal hissed, paint popping around the hot metal.

Optronix's bottom lip threatens to bleed energon, metal denta driving deep to mute harrowing screams of pain. Cabled tendons drive up rigid against dermal skin, stress ridging wires and threatening to rip components to shreds.

When the agony upon his right shoulder front ended, it only began on Optronix's left. Soundwave swiftly lifted the brand and reapplied onto the final shoulder front, iron kissing dermal flesh.

It feels like hours, but the torment inevitably ends. Pain receptors forcefully shut down around the immediate vicinity of the cauterized wounds, systems initiating diagnosis and recovery. The scars upon metal dermal layers, however, were unable to mend by such means as his internal systems. Only specialized medics can possibly treat and remove the deep disfigurements.

Soundwave switches the branding iron off, instrument dying with a low sigh resembling contentment from a job well done. "Do You Require Anything Else, Lord Megatron?"

"Not at all." Megatron slides the hand from Optronix's chest, not worrying that the mech would attempt another bid for freedom, currently too busy regulating intake control through his vents. "You may leave now, Soundwave."

"Acknowledged." Soundwave bows, retreating to allow Megatron and his Consort privacy.

Optronix doesn't turn his helm to watch the mech fade away, hearing the door open and close in the distance, chest rising and falling in an erratic tempo, struggling to contain his composure.

Megatron traces the purple insignias, eliciting an automatic flinch, Optronix shrinking away. "You handled yourself well, considering." The Decepticon speaks his approval. "Not one, but two insignias in less than one orn."

"Nn..." Optronix's optics tilt towards him. "N...No better than cattle," He groans.

"If that's how you see it." Megatron does not attempt at apology or correction.

"Does it make you happy?" Optronix asks, voice dulled by the residual stinging pain, staring up at his captor. "The pain and energon that you tear from other mechs?"

"If it is the blood of my enemies and the agonized cries of my opposition, then why shouldn't I derive pleasure in their demise?" Megatron demands, fingers trapping Optronix's chin, holding him firm in place. "The only reason I've spared you, is because your Spark calls to mine, and I have no intention to lose or permanently damage you."

Therefore, Optronix's fate fell within Megatron's hands. As expected. _'But what about Ariel?'_ He cannot help but wonder.

"And the terrorist?" Optronix remembers not to use the femme's name, as much as his Spark aches for her, hoping the femme would not suffer further harm. But if Megatron had kept true to his word and delivered the femme into the hands of Decepticon soldiers, then there was little guarantee of Ariel returned, entirely unharmed...and statistically, the chances of her returning completely intact... Optronix swiftly erases that thought; dredging up his worst fears would not save her. He could only act. "What will be done with her?"

Megatron's lips curl at the mention of the femme, but Optronix will not face punishment, since he has followed the Decepticon's command not to speak the terrorist's name. "Still trying to extract my sympathy and mercy?" Optics burns into blue, burning for an answer.

"I can't stand back, aware and watching while another mech suffers when I am capable of doing _something_...anything to ease their discomfort."

"And what are you willing to sacrifice, Optronix?" Megatron insists, teasing Optronix into a proverbial corner, enticing the mech with the slimmest glimmer of hope that the femme might, just might, chance across salvation. The Decepticon holds temptation within his hands, coaxing Optronix closer, like the serpent luring Eve close with the poisoned red apple of knowledge, slivered tongue promising enlightenment and gratification. "What is a mech such as you capable of offering to satisfy my terms of charity?"

Optronix shivers, the Decepticon's voice lowering to cause hums of tension to quake over the mech's flesh. "Whatever you want," He whispers, finally. "No questioning and no resistance."

It proves to be the correct answer. More than anything, optics grew wide, red pits burning like the heart of volcano.

"You will not fight me at every turn." The Decepticon seals the deal, setting the terms. "No pleas, no excuses, and no running away. From this moment until the turning of this orn, you will submit to my every command. Then, and only then, will I ensure that your femme will not suffer under my hands again."

Optronix's voice box failed to produce assent, and instead he executes a shaky nod, consenting to the mech's terms.

Immediately once giving acquiescence, Optronix is pulled from his seat, optics flying wide as he is thrown over the large silver mech's shoulder. Hands slap against the contour of Megatron's lower back, frightened that he would slip to the ground. "Ah!" The complete motion of being grasped, and then tossed over the Decepticon's shoulders too quick to follow, processors akimbo as he tried to make sense of his upside-down perspective.

Megatron carries his charge into the back quarters, making certain that the door locks engaged...In case Optronix's intentions break under the strain and the mech tries to back down from their agreement.

The large recharge berth cushions his weight during Optronix's fall as Megatron drops him atop the moonshine sheets. His helm disappears among the mass of pillows, burying antenna and face.

Blue hands shove the soft masses aside, optics returning to focus on the Decepticon sliding onto the berth, black cannon missing from his forearm and silver tank barrel disappeared from his back. Optronix feels his courage waning, the mech drawing menacingly close, hands smoothing over red calf struts and the lines of blue thighs and pelvic joints. "Um..." He stutters.

"Quiet," Megatron orders, using the grip upon Optronix's pelvic region, he tugs until the mech slips down the berth's bedding, falling prone upon his back. The red and blue mech's optics flared as far wide as they can possibly expand, "The longer you are uncooperative, the more I consider dissolving our bargain."

Optronix welds lip components together, going further to ensure silence by laying a hand over his mouth to stifle any unwilling noise or exclamations.

"Good mech." Megatron approves. Optronix's free hand ripples, fingers burying into moonshine as the Decepticon slides downwards, spreading silver and blue thighs wide to brace against silver shoulders.

Optronix's hand presses harder over his mouth, muffling a soft cry of dismay while Megatron's mouth slides over blue metal, further down his groin, glossa discovering the hidden seam for the plug compartment. "Open it." Megatron enforces.

The mech stiffens, optics flaring bright. Open...Did he even know how?! Optronix's inner chambers were pumping so hard, focus scattered into the wind that he feared that he couldn't access protocol override to allow the compartment to uncover!

Megatron's fingers dig into his pelvic joints. "Optronix..." He warns.

Optronix is quick to nod, hastily diving into his memory banks, seeking the sequence pulse. His vents sigh in relief, Spark releasing the correct oscillation to coax the compartment to open. The metal gates hiss open, snapping into inlaid housing chambers. The plug rose from the depth of the compartment, metallic surface soft and tiny seamless plates struggling to stay partially erect.

The Decepticon grins, lips widening at the sight of the hot flush creeping over Optronix's facial plates. From a critical eye, and judging by Optronix's flooding embarrassment, it is easy to discern that the mech's plug has rarely ever been released from captivity. The mech cannot fathom how to handle the appendage, actually looking petrified of his plug! "You are how many eons past maturation, and you have rarely looked upon, let alone handled your plug?"

"W-Why would I?" Optronix wonders aloud, expanding fingers to allow his voice to discernable. "I am rarely with anyone whom I wish to interface, and I don't have any interest in the company of my hand." The mech flushes at the crude terms coming out from behind his hand.

Shoulders ripple under the red and blue mech's thighs. "Like a stainless mech," Megatron laughs, but his words are not intentionally cruel. "Or rather..." Fingertips brush the sealed latches of Optronix's port. "...Not completely stainless," He purrs, slowly dragging finger edges up and down.

His partner slapped his other hand up, using both appendages to stifle forthcoming curses from the probing caress.

"Hands down, Optronix," The red and blue mech startles, looking down at the Decepticon in disbelief. Megatron's meets his skeptical optics. Heeding the mech's direction, Optronix hesitantly releases his grip, fingers lowering to twist amid slipping pools of moonshine. "Do not move them."

Metal creaks, elbows digging into the berth's surface. Optronix's lips pull back, baring metal denta in surprise as Megatron's head lowers, and wet heat surrounds his plug.

Hips roll, competing to push forward into the warm flesh clamping over him, and yet snapping back onto the berth to retreat from the unsettling pressure. An epileptic tremble captures his fingers, tips coiling into the depths of the moonshine.

Mechanical eyeballs safely behind blue optical glass roll backwards as the heat ascends around his plug...and falls down in descent, stopping midway. The Decepticon's hand encircles the base of the plug, tracing smooth metal and sensitive wiring running up the underside. Ribbed flesh formed thin layers atop those circuits, stiffening when encountering the pressure of Megatron's hand.

Rising upward, the Decepticon does release him, but only to explore the underside of the plug, testing how glossa and fingers call forth unregulated responses.

"NNnn." Optronix rattles, thighs quaking as the dermal layer responds towards the exhalations Megatron purposely makes, examining the plug's further reaction. Fingers massage the pale pelvic joints visible amid the seams of Optronix's hips and thighs, enticing the mech's vents to overheat further.

Megatron is suddenly there, appearing above, their faces pushed close. Optronix cries out, in surprise, then pain, as a black hand closes painfully over the bared plug. "This belongs to me." Megatron's hand tightens, the hold increases, drawing an agonized whine from the mech's vocal processor, cringing at the rough pressure encircling the fragile staff. "If I find out, or remotely suspect, that you are sticking it into any port, whether a femme's or mech's, I will personally tear your staff from its compartment."

Optronix's forehead smacks against Megatron's breastplate, flailing around the pain assailing his frame, but forcing himself to freeze, cowed by the future threat of harm should he ever err beyond the master's decree. "All right! I won't, I promise!" He is barely capable of holding back from trying to wrestle the Decepticon's hand free. "Just please let go of me!" Optronix seeks to gain Megatron's charity.

Once the Decepticon deigns to release his plug, Optronix feels his body swiftly retract it within the unmolested darkness of the compartment. Retreating from the aggression and violence brought down by Megatron's hand.

Optronix wishes that he could curl into a fetal position and protect his vitals, but the hopes disallowed. "You didn't have to do that." He beseeches, voice rippling from the agony, receptors pulsing the pain into his CPU's processors. "You didn't need to use violence to prove the vitality of your threat."

"It is a lesson you won't soon forget."

_'Nor will I forget what you are capable of delivering upon your enemies, and towards those attached to you.'_ Optronix promises never to forget that lesson.

"Ease your worries." Megatron informs, and yet Optronix is not willing to relax, dreading another similar encounter. "You've been through enough for this solar cycle." Hands rise, brushing the dark Decepticon marks upon red shoulder paint. Optronix shivers, surprised by his response although receptors beneath the deep brands shut down and surrounding dermal plates numbed. "There will be no further violence."

Optronix's disbelief remains, anticipating the mech's promise to reverse into another lie.

Sliding downward, returning between Optronix's limbs, Megatron overpasses the plug compartment to reach the latched gates of his port. The smaller mech quivers, dreading whatever the Decepticon is planning.

The mech does not immediately command him to activate the unlocking procedures, providing Optronix a little more time to recollect his CPU, Megatron moves swiftly, aware of the correct operations to locate and release the safety plates atop the port's entrance. The gates disconnect with a sharp _snap_, clicking backwards into their respective pelvic seams.

Optronix lays his helm back, directing optics towards the metal ceiling. Hands encompass the round surface of his posterior, coaxing hips and torso to tilt back for an easier angle of access.

Glossa wriggling deep into the cavern of his port is not entirely surprising, but cables and wires quirk around the exploring intruder. Circuitry shifts aside to accommodate its length and width, internal systems automatically preparing for interface, while computing that no plug currently explored the mech's electrified depths.

Megatron seeks deeper penetration, hunting the well for the primary cable running the topside of the port ceiling that simulated electrical pulses throughout his partner's form.

His glossa skims the threaded width of the metallic chain running the length of the port's roof. Automatically Optronix's hips buckle, stimulation delivering an electric discharge along the cable, sparks tickling the strong muscle of Megatron's glossa.

"Haaa—" Optronix feels his arms stretch, twisted sporadic by the electric pulses rippling up the spine's metal conduit to create miniature storms of lightning and thunder to assault neural processor broadcasts and CPU.

Systems respond towards the spikes of high voltage, stimulating lubricants from those aroused wires that specialize in the easing of interface operations. Megatron snarls in possessive pleasure, demanding more as the solution teases glossa and lips. Fingers enwrap pelvic joints, rocking Optronix in tempo in order to attain further stimulation of the cable, and cause the escaping lubricants to dampen the port's lips and run down inner thighs.

The increasing activation of recurring electric pulses was steadily catapulting Optronix towards an onrushing overload...but the pain from earlier that had afflicted his plug, by Megatron's cruel hand, and a hidden niche of his CPU waits for more pain to follow, stifling the rising pleasure of overload.

Overload mounts the peak of a tall mountain, threatening to deliver an avalanche upon the mech's helm.

Peripheral sensors indicate that Megatron is dangerously close to tearing pelvic joints from their cradles, hands pulsing and pulling Optronix deeper into his mercy, glossa mimicking the act of interface, coaxing overload to take the leap down the mountain's face.

Two series of electrical discharges provide enough coaxing, literally shoving overload past simply peering over the edge, instead sending the mountain upon its knees, crashing over Optronix and burying him beneath wave of exploding bombs of sinful gratification.

He rockets upwards, only his shoulders remaining on the recharge berth, moonshine pillows blinding optics as his helm thrown back. Biting his lip deep is the only barrier preventing him from etching painful screams of exhilaration as overload buries him, finally stopping its teasing and sending his CPU into a spastic fit.

Primary vents kick into overtime, cooling circuitry and grids within the safety of his rib cage struts. Inhalation and exhalation rattle the mech's chest, throat aching due to the stubborn efforts to extinguish any distinguishable cries.

Glossa retreating into its appropriate chamber, Megatron's large chest pants raggedly around the exertion of vents working to cool overheating gears. The mechs' pelvises create a seam together, Decepticon blanketing the smaller mech, silver, engine-red, and ebony fusing with sapphire and ruby.

Lips mesh, Optronix groans softly past the bitter tang of rich petroleum, Megatron sharing the translucent ambrosia generously delivered from the mech's body. Denta clack together, metal grinding as the Decepticon seeks to devour his partner alive. Optronix's hands skid along the indentations of Megatron's shoulders, breaking the command to remain firmly planted, but Megatron purrs in pleasure at the skimming touch, ignoring the mech's failure to follow his decree.

Megatron pulls back, and lips separate with a pop of broken suction. "Don't get too relaxed." The Decepticon warns, seeing the blue optics dimming partially.

Optronix flinches, startled as they are suddenly rolling to the side, and then he is now on top. His hands brace upon Megatron's shoulders, torso stretching the length of his body. "What—"

Megatron lies back against the mound of moonshine pillows, closed fist supporting his chin, leaning back and observing the mech straddling his lap. "I'll let you do all the work this time," Other hand slipping over Optronix's collarbone strut.

_'You can't mean for me to...'_ Optronix's optics flicker owlishly. "You can't be serious." He says in horror. "You want me to...take your...and lead..." Voice box cannot find the connection between words, the mech toppled by Megatron's instruction.

Crimson optics roll towards the ceiling. "I wonder how that little terrorist is holding up." Megatron wonders aloud. "The poor femme has shared company with the soldiers for nearly a joor. Her voice box should short out soon." He composes the femme's current misfortune under the Decepticons' cold talons as if discussing the lunar cycle of Cybertron's rotating moons.

The red and blue mech's grip clenches, fists vibrating, Spark crumbing at the notion of Ariel's suffering.

"The longer you keep stalling," His partner warns, "the longer she will spend under their tender care."

His helm lowers, bowing to the femme's fate that rested on the role he plays. There can be no other option if he wanted her chances of survival to remain high. "...okay..." He submits finally.

Optronix, thankfully, does not need to worry about embarrassing himself by fumbling over the plug compartment beneath his waist. Megatron's plug readily snaps from the compartment, bobbing eagerly in anticipation, impatient for the prospective joining.

Optronix is unsettled, unsure how to wield the impressive-sized plug — but it was not as if he had many to compare to besides his own — Daunted by how his port had managed to swallow the entirety of the monster.

"It will be easier if you slide forward and properly angle your body."

"I thought you said that you were going to sit back and watch." But he follows the instruction, port hovering over the tip of the metal staff.

"I said nothing about supervising." Megatron corrects.

_'Wonderful.'_ Optronix grunts. Humiliated already, the necessity for the other mech to hold his hand and lead him through interfacing procedures was beyond mortifying. _'Backseat driver,'_ He mutters privately over the Decepticon's requirement to bark orders outside and on the recharge berth.

Hips shudder at the effort to remain above the plug, Optronix ascertaining whether he was prepared to continue. Clicks pass, and he decides that there is no better time than now. Wanting to get past the very first obstacle.

The tip of the staff breaching his port did not turn out too badly. Vents hissed a sigh of relief, and he tests the angle by rolling hips to determine that no discomfort followed.

He pushes down further, and this times vents hiss low, exerting control as the width slowly increases, pumps revving in response to the pressure coaxing cables and wires to part further around the invading plug.

Rich light within Megatron's optics brightens significantly; hum settling in the depths of the silver chest. Black hands flex, wracked by the painfully deliberate pace the port descending the circumference of his plug.

"M-Megatron..." Port uniting with the base of the Decepticon's plug, managing to successfully labor across the girth of the staff; resulting in the mechs' most intimate manner of connection second to a Spark bond.

Hips and thighs automatically snap upward, deepening a roll to induce greater friction.

"Ahh!" Hands loosen to slip free from Megatron's shoulders, and bury into the haphazard support of numerous moonshine pillows. He lands closer to the Decepticon's helm and foreheads impact. Optronix's hips roll, mirroring his partner's action.

Moving topside was proving much more difficult than anticipated. Still unfamiliar with all there was to interfacing, the position and angle did not make efforts easy. Optronix tries pushing forward and back, but thighs groan at the unfamiliar angle and stress pushing them widely apart. Lubricants ease the plug's passage, but he cannot maintain a regular tempo, chasing the motion and pressure Megatron has so effortlessly used.

His vents rattle harder, in effort to compose internal cogs and instruments, frustration making his concentration shatter. The closer he approaches the teasing fingers of overload, the further it trembles away, breaking the mech's efforts. "I can't..." Optronix whimpers.

Megatron refuses to fold to the mech. "Keep moving."

"I can't keep this up!" Optronix pleads. Heels strike with his posterior, torso coiling, driving the plug deep. He's trying to drive the staff over the surface cable of the port's roof, but fails to find a proper angle to derive electric pulses. The friction drives his CPU mad, mere replacement for that flash, chasing after the induction surges like a drug addict hungering for the next hit.

"Poor thing," Megatron whines in mock sympathy.

"Bastard.." Optronix is ready to weep bitter cleaning fluids.

"Decepticon, my Spark." Megatron counters, "Through and through."

He nips at Optronix's lips, teasing the folds to separate. Willingly, Optronix eagerly dives in, glossa intertwining. The sound he is making sends a curl of disgust within the depths of his compactor, behaving no better than a hired harlot does for a paying customer.

Yet he cannot convince his body to stop.

"Please!" A sharp rip signals that he has ripped at least one pillow. Fingers dig in, tearing the strips wider. "I don't know how to reach it." He manages beyond the tangling of lips and glossa and the battle of denta clashing.

"Well..." Megatron is slow to speak, savoring the mech's frustration, drinking in fervor much sweeter than the purest high-grade. "Since you beg so nicely," He is willing to accede.

Hands settle over blue pelvic points, silent coax for Optronix to slow. Holding the mech's frame, and attention, Megatron rotates his hips, igniting the surface cable, and the oscillation of high voltage.

Optronix crumbles across the length of his partner, the Decepticon accomplishing what he struggled to attain through grit and endeavor. Lips tremble, quaked by release, achieving that illusive temptress.

Megatron rocks him, jolting the cable repeatedly.

Optronix's vents work vigorously, but cannot provide acceptable ventilation, forcing him to rely on sporadic inhaling and exhaling through his mouth components and windpipe network.

Metal shrieks, black paint decorating grooves along the smooth lines of blue hips. Megatron's plug buffeted with intensifying pressure, and electrical re-uptake from their mounting union.

He is uncertain how long he can hold together.

Optronix fares no better. Prior discharge managed to dull the onrush towards the threshold, but only just. He can vaguely sense components struggling back online, reawakened by the increasing electric discharges, but actions sluggish, provide further distraction and preventing the yearning eclipse of fire and lightning. Obstacles hold him from a secondary overload, the strain threatening to sear circuit boards.

Megatron yanks him down, and chests flatten in conjunction. Hands race up, curling over blue, bracing Optronix to meet each thrust. The momentum, plug all but severing its link from the port before diving back, almost topples Optronix from his perch. Knees shift higher to provide more support for the smaller mech's lower body, keeping the restless body firmly in place.

Optronix tangles arms around the circle of the Decepticon's neck, clenched tight to lessen any disconnection between their forms. Metal plates grate, stomach ridges rasping. Beneath pectoral screens and tucked within the safety of galvanized chambers, Sparks beat in cadence, singing to the other, tasting the proximity of its brother.

"Megatron—" Electricity temporarily short-circuits vocal processor, causing sporadic stutters. Fingers wrench for a proper hold, digging into smooth plate seams. "Mm-meg—"

Red flames bleed upon ruby tattoos scorching silver cheek plates, rippling life into the fiery marks. Denta grit, drawing tiny blue sparks amid the seams. Megatron growls low, retracted lips revealing sharp points of upper and lower fangs.

Then, suddenly, the threshold stumbles into Optronix's face, delivering a sharp slap to gather his attention.

Port and plug snap together, forming as one. The electric discharge is so profound that Optronix's blue optic screens shatter spider legs of darkness, flickering once, and fall pitch-black. Buzzing explosions snap across circuitry and gear sheaths, releasing tension. Arms slacken, helm dropping lax beside Megatron's, lying limp over his shoulder.

His partner's massive form shudders, entirety buffeted by the rolling pulses. CPU and circuitry shortly stuttered by the assault, but then there is a sharp mental thrust that quickly induces systems to reboot. Breath escapes between lip components, and Megatron releases a vibrating exhalation of lessening strain, his processors practically rolling about in static-kissed ecstasy. Black palm and fingers encase the back of Optronix's blue helm, compelling the face to turn towards him.

Lips brush in surprisingly soft contact, sharing oscillating breath patterns. Optronix, optics black and blind, peers vaguely in his face's general direction. He does not resist as Megatron deeps the kiss, face shuttered, frame relaxed underneath the intense interface's skillful hands.

It pleases the large mech. The other's quiet repose sates a dark corner of his Spark, quenching a gnawing hunger that threatens to liquefy the mech's insides. Surrender, he decided, was an intoxicating brew that he would never grow tired of.

_'Yes,'_ He decides, _'He held out his bargain. I feel that a little bit of mercy is constituted.'_ The femme will not suffer his hand again.

A feral grin paints his lips. Optronix's pretty little lover, however, had decided her own fate. He had recently opened the private communication link a while ago, Shockwave indicating the current situation regarding the terrorist, the Decepticon leader listening through the one-sided connection. Once satisfied and signaling his consent, he swiftly shut it down.

The next orn would be interesting, indeed.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Tyrant  
Author: dreamerchaos  
Beta: None  
Warning: Slash, possible gore, and AU. Anyone who knows me, also knows of my rabid fondness for AUs. Mature, and will rate up to MATURE. Be Warned.  
Pairing: MegatronxOptronix. Also non-con pairings  
Disclaimer: Transformers is owned and copyrighted by Hasbro and others beside myself. I'm only playing with the boys and girls.  
I've recently been fascinated by the possibility of Megatron and Optimus having met before Optimus (or Optronix) became a Prime, and how that would have affected the war on Cybertron.  
My basic knowledge about Transformers and terms for certain anatomy stems from a wide array of fanfiction. I approach this fic after reading the IDW graphic novel Megatron: Origin. Any mistakes are mine entirely.

CHAPTER SIX

Stepping into the Stadium and overlooking the Pit's dark maw, made dermal plates crawl. Optronix knows better than to falter his pace; peripheral sensors twinge, indicating at the presence of a hand hovering over the surface of his lower back.

"This way," Megatron instructs, leading them to the same seat arrangements and platform. Once more, the viewing platforms already filled to full capacity. The mechs all look down towards the Pit floor in eager anticipation.

Optronix is not surprised to see Red Alert and the three Seekers already seated. Starscream appears calm and relaxed, arm encompassing Red Alert's shoulders, tucking the uncomfortable mech close against leg and gold cockpit. He notices that Thundercracker and Skywarp are looking particularly sour, sitting on the red mech's opposite side, and the lack of the turquoise and red scientist.

What does astonish the red and blue mech was not Blaster's familiar form, but Shockwave and Soundwave also in attendance. Blaster delivers a tight wave in greeting, face split wide in relief at seeing the mech relatively unscathed save for the two insignias branded into the front red shoulder plates.

Megatron chuckles low at a private thought, taking his seat. "I'm surprised to see that you left the mech alone." He comments in Shockwave's direction. The yellow optic returns his gaze.

"Perceptor: Adequate Medical Experience. Sits And Keep Watch Over Charge, As Well As Monitors Prowl's Condition. Mech Designated As Jazz Is In Attendance As Well." Shockwave informs the leader.

Optronix's optics return towards the Seekers; that would explain the looks of Starscream's wingmates.

He is not completely startled this time when pulled down to join Megatron, fitting against the mech's side. Optics glimmer a daring glance in the Pit's direction. _'Again, and so soon?'_ Disgust expressed; unrestrained, dismayed that he would have to sit through another execution. "Another Autobot has already offered a challenge for freedom?" He asks.

It comes to his surprise when the Seekers emit low waves of laughter, and Red Alert's optics dim.

Blaster attempts to intercede. "Um...Optronix..."

"Quiet." Megatron does not need to cut the mech off. Soundwave speaks for him, grasping Blaster by the closest shoulder. "Do Not Interfere." The telepath warns, cautioning the mech over his transgression.

Optronix's face pulls tight, worry causing vents to rev. "What's going on?" He turns towards his seating partner, demanding an answer.

In answer, the Pit's floor gates begin to slide open, and the shadow of the platform starts its slow rise. "Watch," Megatron waves a hand down into the Pit. "And remember that every mech makes his or her own decision to fight, and are not forced into combat. Neither I, or any Decepticon here, can coerce them into doing so."

Impending doom settles an acid bomb deep within metal gut, cable network wrenching into a tight ball. "...no..." He whispers, worst fear rising from the cold depths of his CPU.

Red optics tilts in his direction. Megatron smiles darkly. "I promised not to lay a hand." He reminds the shocked, paralyzed mech.

A loud crash of metal locking into iron chambers signals that the platform stabilized properly set into the arena floor. The crowd roars, escalating chant hungering for blood and carnage.

He whips back, optics trained upon the petite mech standing tall in the center.

"Ariel!" Optronix cries.

The femme looks horrid, even from this distance. Her pale face is livid with dark painted grooves, and twisted dents. One of her antennas snapped off subsequent to the last time he had seen her, and was not visible anywhere near Ariel's vicinity, signifying that the violence had taken place elsewhere. Sparks snap from her left elbow joint, marking the limb as dislocated.

In addition, from between her slim legs...

Optronix's hand flies up to cover his mouth, muffling the horrified cry.

Her port was badly damaged. The latched gates' locks severed, one hanging limp, connection dead. Trembling lines of energon trickle from the depths, glossing inner thighs. The pain is agonizing, each struggling intake through her vents causing the femme to cringe in sharp pain.

_"You let those beasts rape her."_ Optronix whispers.

"I let them?" Megatron affects hurt and horror. "I did no such thing. After all, I believe I spent the entire recharge cycle with you, my dear Optronix." He discredits his role in the femme's plight.

The leader's companion quivers in anger, hands clenching into fists, drawing beads of energon from his palms. "That doesn't exclude your role in giving her to their mercy."

"Looks fine to me," Starscream adds his input, red optics observing the femme in disinterest. "If she can stand and is eager for a fight, then she must be in excellent spirits."

The Seeker's optics quirk in approval at Optronix's low snarl, the newly designated Decepticon revealing a fresh ignition of burning flames through his optics, "You didn't help her any by personally delivering her as if she were no better than a shipped package."

"That little femme that you hold so highly and dear inside your Spark, was trying to lead an insurrection, and may have led to my wingmates and our charges suffering from the resulting confusion and skirmish." Starscream firmly meets him, ruby clashing against sapphire. "Why should I apologize for the threat that was extinguished, and my role in providing punishment for a terrorist?"

"Calm down, both of you," Megatron cleaves the argument before it festers further, not eager to possibly resort to physically separating the two mechs. "While you have been clucking at another like a pair of BrassHens, you've missed the challengers."

"What?!" Starscream squawks, twisting to face the Pit. "Who?! I'm always the first one in!"

Optronix turns, noticing the empty seats on his left. Blaster's optics meets his, and the red mech points a trembling hand in the Pit's direction. "Down there." He directs Optronix, voice shaky.

He faces the Pit with scarce amount of time to see not one, but two challengers hit the floor of the Pit, the arena's walls echoing the heavy pounding of metal feet marking their landing.

Shockwave and Soundwave land side by side, facing the slim femme.

The shriek of the crowd reaches the ceiling. Thundercracker and Skywarp nearly leap from their seats, adrenal glands pumping their systems. Two challengers! This was unprecedented outside the mass organized battles held inside the higher-stake Pits where it was normal for teams of mechs to face off in a death match.

Optronix throws himself at Megatron's mercy, hands pressing flat to the silver chest. "You can't sanction this!" He pleads. "This is an unfair fight! She's injured and doesn't stand a chance!" Fingers scrabble at the leader's chest, as if trying to dig up a single scrap of compassion for the weakened femme.

Red Alert, usually the last to speak, if not remaining completely silent, is the one who seeks to calm him down. "Optronix, you don't understand." He tries to be the voice of reason. "Those two have never before entered the Pit. And I don't think that they'll willingly step out."

"You think we're scary," Skywarp adds, grinning in devilish pleasure as Ariel takes a wary step back from the challengers, "Those two discovered that one mech dares to try to procure their charges. How do you think they'd act?" He looks pointedly in Blaster's direction. "Many mechs assume that those two possess little vigilance over the state of their projects, but find me other mechs more possessive than them..."

The Seeker trails off, implication sealed as Blaster shifts in embarrassment under the mech's scrutiny, living epitome of the methods either of the two Decepticons would employ for a personal undertaking. Blaster could not meet any of their gazes, needing no reminder of the GPS unit and...Other less scrupulous additions, courtesy of Soundwave, assurances that the red mech would never break away from the Decepticon's clutches.

Megatron scoffs at the drama. "The crowd grows rowdy." His words met with the howls of frustrated mechs, wanting the halted battle to proceed.

He raises his hand to motion the guards to display the weapons case, but before he can lift the appendage over his helm, Ariel's hand making a daring plunge towards her outside thigh, revealing a hidden compartment. A small blaster bursts from the sheath, and Ariel forgoes the pain, spins and crouches low, angling for a damaging shot into Shockwave's torso.

Shockwave knocks the laser blast away with the proper angle and directional force, blast releasing a sensor-splitting shriek across the metal skin, arching off his right forearm to scorch the Pit walls.

The crowd is in shambles, objections and catcalls ringing from the stands. "Cheat!" Mechs boo in acid-dripping derision.

"Show 'er, Shockwave!"

"Show that Autobot what a real mech can do!"

"Looks like I won't have to call for the proceeding." Megatron's face reveals a small amount of surprise by the femme's actions. She really had sealed her fate, then, with that blatant action.

"Proceed?" Soundwave asks his fellow Decepticon.

"Agreed." Shockwave responds.

Soundwave twists and aims the blue shoulder gattling gun atop his shoulder. One short blast effectively disables the femme's weapon, hitting the mark and knocking the disintegrating metal mass from a singed appendage. Ariel cries out in pain, clutching the damaged fingers to her chassis.

Optronix, stunned by her underhanded actions, jumps at the loud clang of the melted weapon hitting the Pit floor. Unarmed now, she would not last much longer. "Get out of there!" He shouts, trying to warn the femme, no matter how low or unscrupulous her prior conduct.

Shockwave raises the blaster mounted in place of his left hand, taking precise aim. Ariel dives to the side, attempting to avoid the barrel.

Soundwave is there to meet her, swinging a closed fist around, snapping into the delicate circuits running up the back of her helm.

She stumbles, tries to retain a standing position with her legs balanced offset, splayed akimbo. The electric feedback from the painful impact kilter the information directed through optical screen.

Megatron already anticipates it, and an arm entraps the seated mech before he bursts onto his feet. "You can't save her now." He forces Optronix to remain in his seat, struggles mute against the leader's more colossal strength.

Ariel's floundering noticed, and promptly, brutally exploited. Shockwave shoves the barrel of the blaster into the small seam behind a kneecap, firing the small discharge into the circuitry.

Struts buckle as support cables warp under the boiling heat, detonating blast cracking the ball of Ariel's kneecap into glass-shard pieces.

She drops to her knees, favoring the destroyed one, limb dead and dragging the slim body to the ground. Sensors die, destroyed by the blaster's fire round, or overtaxed by the excruciating data streams from damaged receptors.

"Primus..." Blaster cannot watch the cold efficiency and concentrated brutality, too much to bear. Shoulders hunker, a hand sliding over to protect optics from the horrible destruction occurring. This would not be an execution; the two mechs were taking their time, exacting torture as they deigned fit.

Red Alert cringes, the resonating peal of blaster fire eliciting too many fresh burning memories from the depths of his CPU. For the very first time, he is unresisting when pulled tight against Starscream's chest, tucking his face away, antennas focusing on the Spark chamber and working inner gears providing white noise from the terrible sounds.

Soundwave catches her by the arm, fingers wrapping around the elbow joint. The same arm and hand that once brandished the small weapon. "When Aiming A Weapon," He coldly criticized, fingers imbedding, beginning a slow twist. "Aim For The Spark."

There is nary a pop; Soundwave rips the forearm of the limb from the joint, dragging cables and wires spraying tenacious bouts black oil and spatters of bright energon.

A long pained wail escapes the femme, falling upon her shoulder, curling into a fetal position around the disassembled extremity.

Shockwave stifles her complaints, ramming a foot into her gut, blow sending the femme hurtling nearly half the length of the arena floor. The jolting impact and four painful rolls leave Ariel lying in a crumbled trembling heap.

Starscream's fingers drum over the back of Red Alert's shoulder tire, optics bright in attention, downloading the battle into his memory banks. The two Decepticons letting loose would be the topic of discussion for vorns, and he could not pass on rerunning that image in the future for his own amusement and scaring tactic for fresh recruits.

_'Remember why we are Decepticons.'_ The video would depict two of their finest soldiers in action, a display of scythe-like beauty and calculated discord. _'Remember why we are feared, why we are strong; why our very name breeds terror. We bring down the rain of energon from our enemies, and deliver a dance of death upon the corpses falling beneath our feet.'_

Skywarp and Thundercracker possess far simpler pleasures at the look on the challenger's facial plates when he or she finds themselves staring into the metal curtains falling over dying optics. It is a pity that Perceptor is not here, on watch duty, forced to miss the spectacle, but they are certain that if they ask 'nicely', Starscream would be willing to replay the video.

Soundwave catches Ariel's delicate angle, bodily lifting the femme and swinging to smash her cracked, sparking frame against the Pit wall. The hollow ring of impact causes several guards to stumble back, clutching their antennas.

Her remaining hand falls, slapping to the ground to catch her weight, and screams arise when coming in contact. Pain administered by Shockwave's blaster firing, directed to the floor, and forming a rolling smelting pool beneath the femme, liquefying the perimeter of the ground surrounding the femme's propped body.

The stadium crowd shouts as one, voices assailing audio receptors. Mechs cheer, hiss, and cringe during each cutting blow, pieces of the challenger hitting the floor, a shower of oil and lubricants following.

"Make them stop..." Optronix begs, leaning the entirety of his weight against the steel band encircling arms and waist. Tilting in the Pit's direction, CPU begging Ariel to get up, please, get up!

"You honestly expect that they would halt _now_?" Megatron chuckles, "I wouldn't put it past either to simply ignore my command and cite their gross negligence for being 'caught in the moment'." He laughs harder, amused by the incredulity of the two mechs actually refusing to follow his command.

The battle was only breems underway, but already Ariel, badly weakened and bleeding energon and darker oil, barely raises a fight as Shockwave and Soundwave use her as a projectile, thrown back and forth; swinging an arm, burying a fist, or employing any other method to hurl the femme back towards the other combatant.

_'At this rate she will bleed out before they are anywhere finished,'_ Optronix's hands squeeze over the silver arm's surface, digging into the plate seams, _'By now her processors are experiencing neural shock and emergency firewall lockdown.'_

One hard blow sends Ariel into a pirouette, legs tangling together, and she crumbles to the ground unmoving. A hacking cough wracks her frame, vibrant gout of energon bursting from between lip components to wet the metal floor tiles.

Optronix collapses internally, something deep inside shutting down, bleeding into pieces, and accompanying the femme's agony. His head drops, neck and jugular cables unable to provide satisfactory support. A part wants to wail, to surge, to scream in anger and denial. However, it comes too late. Far too late, to save the femme who housed such a precious cut of his Spark.

Shockwave nudges Ariel's hip with his foot, pushing to draw forth a visible response; her shoulders list minutely pushed only by the Decepticon's gesture.

"Resistance: Minor." Soundwave notes. "Femme Close To Deactivation."

"Agreed." Shockwave concurs. "Trivial to Continue This Fight Any Longer."

Shockwave presses his foot between the femme's shoulders, effortlessly shifting downward, pinning her slim body, supine amid a growing pool of violet. Both Decepticons turn, looking over their respective shoulder, meeting the narrow red optics of their leader. "Your Command?" They echo.

Megatron tilts his helm, pondering the mechs' inquiry in penetrating silence. He scrutinizes the soldiers standing in the Pit over the fallen competitor, weighing the worth of each pound of metal and energon staining the ground.

The crowd begins to chant. "KILL! KILL! KILL! KILL! KILL!" Arms rise in salute, forming a mobile forest of gleaming metal, clamors filling the seats and platforms. Megatron glances up, scanning the faces of trained soldiers and mingling domestic mechs.

The decision proves unanimous, his soldiers' fervor supplying all that was necessary.

"The crowd speaks." Megatron answers, hand rising above his head, arm and cannon forming a sword pointed towards the heavens.

Severing the air with a precise descending slice, Megatron's arm signals the fighters. "Finish it!"

Shockwave and Soundwave comply.

Shockwave raises his foot, shortly liberating the femme.

Soundwave lifts a fist, crouching above Ariel, leaning over her shoulder.

Ariel's optics flicker, sapphire blinking in pain and confusion.

_'Offline your optics, Ariel,'_ Optronix begs. He pleads for Primus for mercy, not wanting the femme to watch death descending upon her. _'Please don't watch.'_

The Decepticons' descend, ramming down and puncturing the broken challenger.

Shockwave's foot and ankle sinks into — Breaks through, impaling the femme — splitting Ariel's torso, severing through her back and bursting through the paneling of her lean stomach.

Soundwave's fist pierces between shoulder blades, splitting the seams, penetrating down to encircle vitals within her chassis. Blue fingers envelop Spark casing, twisting, and _wrench_.

Ripping through stubborn cables slipping to tangle around his wrist, Soundwave dislodges the dying remains of the Spark casing, the pulsing ball of the Spark's glowing light seeping through the seams of his fingers.

Ariel's optics dim, and then die. A long shuddering exhalation cuts through her vents, body falling slack.

Spills of fresh energon from failing internal components facilitates a smoother retreat, Soundwave tearing forearm and hand free, clasping the femme's Spark as it releases a final shuttering pulse of light before turning ink-black, oil dripping between his fingers.

Mechs scream, cries rose to howl from the depths of Hell, glorifying at the sight of the dead Spark casing, Soundwave holding it within a fist above his helm for the entire stadium to bear witness.

Optronix slumps forward, two arms the only support holding him off the floor; blue optics, now pitch black, and dully stare at the silver tiles, mirroring the cold blackness seeping into the depths of his Spark.

The dead Spark casing within the telepath's fist matches his own, Optronix feels his aching Spark die with hers.

Surging roars rising from the depths of his CPU, a leviathan stretching its maw open to swallow him whole. He falls into it, embracing the cold darkness reaching forward, pulling him into its depths, away from the sight of his dearest friend, his sweet lover, lying cold and silent.

"Now there is nothing left of her to hold you to your old life." He hears Megatron whisper into his audio receptors. "I am the only one who remains. I am the only one who remains here with you."

_'The demon I know,'_ Optronix raises no argument, feeling nothing, not wanting to hear anything else. _'There is no escape from this fiery Pit.'_

Optronix does not respond towards the soft brush of lip components, for the first time having nothing to defend. No lover to protect, no pride to defend.

Megatron had not lied. Now, he was the only thing that held a small piece of his Spark.

How Optronix yearns to damn the mech into the deepest Pit for possessing that precious fragment.

* * *

Rich blue fingers splay over the glass, capturing the bright beams of sunlight between his fingers.

It still felt incredibly odd, being here, once again, in this pristine, bustling city. His life had changed drastically in the last two vorns. The Constructicons and a small army of other Decepticons were steadily rebuilding the city, carving their mark and legacy into the walls and looming monuments depicting the Decepticon army's glory.

Iacon had fallen not long ago. Prime fell beneath the Decepticon leader, following his predecessor into ruin, the powerful Sentinel Prime.

To his surprise, Megatron first decided to rebuild Faon. Further to his surprise, Optronix finds himself reassigned as archivist in training at the city's Library.

Shockwave took the role as the red and blue mech's instructor, explaining Optronix's role to conserve the history of Cybertron before, during, and after the Decepticons' victory. Megatron held no desire to destroy the precious documents of Cybertron before the Decepticon insurrection, wanting the data to be preserved. It was the duty of the scholars, however, to begin their duty in recording the new, world order, and adding it into the vast archives.

Optronix, never forgetting the purple mech's role in the murder of his femme lover, treats the fellow Decepticon with a wide boundary between them, never straying too close. Anger and trepidation keep him firmly at bay, desiring little contact.

In the last vorn, after a great deal of effort and willpower, he can finally manage to stand to be in the same room with the mech.

For the most part, Optronix's surviving friends and colleagues are also reinstated, but remain under the scrutiny of their guardians, always watching to make certain that the mechs made no ventures to warn or join the last few Autobots who continued to struggle against the Decepticon army.

Optronix did not have many opportunities to see his friends, only recently catching sight of Perceptor, joined, remarkably, by Starscream, the two sharing the same academic history, both scientists working on projects that came under review every megacycle, awaiting Megatron's final approval or dismissal.

Soundwave was the main operator for the new Security division, Red Alert, Blaster, Prowl, and Jazz under his command. Optronix never determined how the telepath maintained control over the last two mechs, but he held his suspicions to himself.

Ratchet, possessing invaluable skills as a medic, holds a new assignment to a separate division known only to Megatron and Shockwave, keeping the previously designated Autobot separated from his companions. The mech had proven extremely resistant to Megatron's 'good will gesture'; the leader offering the mech a position in the Decepticon army after he'd come out of stasis, finally fully repaired.

The purple mech maintains control over the red and white medic by allowing Ratchet to repair Autobot prisoners grouped in the city's main prison ward, but only while the medic continues to remain subservient to Megatron's — if he wished for the captives to stay intact — command. If Ratchet ever tries to aid the remaining Autobots, then a prisoner will face execution for every betrayal.

_'And why am I here?'_ Optronix asks, optics tracing the patterns in the glass between the cracks of splayed fingertips, _'Because I am coward who is too afraid to run and never look back. Because here, is the only mech, who has a hold of my Spark, even with the knowledge that he played a role in the death of someone I held with equal love in my Spark.'_

Optronix catches a silver reflection in the glass wall in front of him overlooking the city. He's not surprised when two arms snake around his waist, pulling him back against a firm, wide chest. "You are deep in thought." Megatron shares his assessment of the smaller mech. Standing directly behind his partner, he takes a moment to scan the city. _His_ city, "What currently possesses your CPU?"

Optronix sighs, not fighting the overpowering embrace. His arms slip from the glass wall, and lift to overlap silver. "Nothing of value," He explains. "Just... Skimming through my memory banks," There is a wistful note detected in his voice box.

His head turns, sensing the red optics penetrating, "Nothing? Is that all?" Megatron examines the mech's answer.

"You're examining my answer too deeply." Optronix adds his input. "Don't be bothered by it. I've only been feeling a bit nostalgic. That is what holds my CPU prisoner."

"Hmm." Megatron shifts at his back, a hand snaking up to slide over chest plates, overlaying across the humming surface protecting Optronix's Spark. "Hopefully it does not hold you so deep, that you are immune to my presence and attention." Lips run along neck cables, drawing an unhindered shudder from his partner.

Optronix grins wryly, completely aware that he would never be able to resist, let alone keep Megatron from his processors. "I don't think it is possible to ignore you." His words do the job of soothing his partner, coaxing the larger mech into a calmer state of mind.

Well, not so calm, then...Fingertips drum atop his chest, causing his Spark to pulse favorably, dermal plates tickled by the tracing black fingers. Megatron presses tighter against his back, drawing a low moan as the Decepticon leader's codpiece presses against Optronix's back.

Megatron was in need of attention from his partner. Optronix surrenders, letting the hands turn him, Megatron's fingers wrapping around his wrist, tugging the mech forward to join him at his side. "Come." His leader commands, demanding Optronix's presence and attentiveness.

"As you command," Optronix can do nothing else but follow, joining the mech, letting Megatron be his guide.

Cybertron's future beneath this tyrant's fist was sealed. Soon no Autobots would be able to hold him and his forces back. Only a few cities were managing to hold on, but their time was close, the Decepticons circling, sharks smelling blood in the water.

Perhaps his CPU is twisted or askew, damaged from watching the death of his femme lover. Perhaps he is not a mech meant to be strong, or be capable of resisting this mech.

Whatever it was, by damage or design, Optronix could only follow, letting the new leader of Cybertron...his leader, his lover, guide him, and guide to lead Cybertron into a new era.

The insignias upon his shoulder fronts would forever remain, reminding Optronix of his place and duty. Reminding all citizens of Cybertron about how a few mechs rose up from the dredges of their foulest cities, grew in number, and seized the planet for their own.

The past was gone and done, and Optronix could only move forward. In the past, he had lost so much.

Nevertheless, here, at his side, was the one mech who had stayed. The one who refused to release him.

Optronix dutifully follows his king, allowing the past to fade into the files of his memory banks, preparing the way for new memory files to take their place.

After all, the future lingers, and Optronix is yet another cog in the machine.

He has followed Megatron from the dark corridors of the city, witnessed glass walls bathed in fire, stared into the Pit, and through it all, he returns to the city where the sun continues to rise and grace him with its warmth and light. A single beam to light the path through the darkness.

Somehow, maybe, everything will turn out all right.

END


End file.
